Harry Potter and the Last Hope of the World
by Curlyjimsam
Summary: Lord Voldemort is defeated and Harry Potter is looking forward to starting his first year at Auror Training College. However, another shadow is afoot...
1. Five Letters

**Harry Potter and the Last Hope of the World**

_by Arrows' Biggest Fan_

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, etc., doesn't belong to me. The stories and characters belong to Joanne Rowling, and I am making no profit whatsoever. Please don't send me to Azkaban.

This was originally named _Harry Potter and the Orb of Light_. So, why the name change? Basically because the new title is more original and different from all of the other names out there. I wanted to keep to the _Harry Potter and the Something of (the) Something _pattern, as this is meant to follow on from Rowling's books, but I also wanted a better title than the rather plain _Orb of Light_. After trying various titles, many of which had already been taken or were similar to ones already used, I finally decided on one. This is it. (Actually, the Orb of Light _is _the last hope of the world, but I mustn't give too much away.)

As I'm British, please e-mail me ) if you don't understand any words or phrases.

You may like to visit my website at

Anyone who likes computer games can download some I have made with Mark Overmars' Game Maker at New Infinity's website ). There are games for the wizarding sports of Quidditch and Swivenhodge.

_Chapter 1: Five Letters _

Harry Potter put the book down. It was about him and the various adventures he had had in his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, seven years ago, written by an author he had never met. He stroked his snowy owl, Hedwig. He wasn't sure how long owls lived for, but Hedwig seemed to be getting old. He looked around at his various possessions that were strewn around the room – a gleaming Nimbus 2500, the best sports broom in the world; an album of wizard's photos showing his family and friends; a scattered collection of his old school books, including a practically destroyed _Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them_; robes, a telescope, cauldron, phials and scales; his phoenix-feather wand in his belt.

Harry was staying at his aunt and uncle's house while he waited for his exam results; he needed top marks to get into Auror Training College. As he was thinking about this, a brown owl swooped down from the sky and into the open window. It dropped a letter from its beak on top of Harry's bed and flew off again, without even stopping for an Owl Treat from Hedwig's cage. Harry picked up the envelope, which was made of thick parchment, and opened it, his heart beating wildly.

He drew out a single sheet of parchment and read:

_WIZARDING EXAMINATIONS AUTHORITY_

_Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests_

_Results: Harry James Potter_

_Candidate Number 63_

_Care of Magical Creatures: Outstanding_

_Charms: Exceeds Expectations_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding_

_Herbology: Acceptable_

_Potions: Exceeds Expectations_

_Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations_

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled. He had got the grades he needed! Five results of Exceeds Expectations or higher! He wasn't sure how being good at Care of Magical Creatures would help him, a better Herbology mark was what he had really wanted, but it wasn't important.

Another owl swooped suddenly into the window and landed beside Hedwig, who squawked angrily. It passed a letter with its beak to Harry, who took it. The envelope was sealed with a large stamp showing a wizard, a witch, a goblin and house-elf and a centaur – the sign of the Ministry of Magic, which had once been a fountain before Harry and Professor Dumbledore had wrecked it in a duel with Lord Voldemort. Harry had destroyed Voldemort last year in the Great Hall at Hogwarts by filling the evil wizard with thoughts of love. Harry ripped open the letter and read:

_THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_Minister for Magic: Bill Weasley, Order of Merlin, First Class, Warlock, Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards, Order of the Phoenix._

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_After receiving notification of your NEWT results, we are pleased to announce that we can welcome you to Andros Auror Training College. Term will begin on October 1st. Please report to the visitors' entrance of the Ministry of Magic at 3:00 pm. Enclosed is a list of books and necessary equipment. We await your owl by no later than August 15th. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Amelia Bones,_

_Head, Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Harry put his arms in the air and shouted, "YES!!!"

"Shut up, boy!" bellowed a voice from downstairs. "What is there to be so happy about? When are you getting your own house, anyway? Dudley has!"

Harry ignored his Uncle Vernon, and Ron's excitable owl Pig shot through the window, hit the wall, and slid slowly downwards onto the bed. Hedwig and the Ministry of Magic owl looked disapproving. Harry look the two scrolls from Pig's leg and began to read the first:

_Hi Harry,_

_Me and Hermione have just got our NEWT results, and they're really good. I got an 'O' in DADA and an 'E' in everything else except Magical Creatures, where I only got a 'P'. Anyway, it's not important; I'd have done better if I hadn't had a crazy Bowtruckle in the practical. Dad wants me to be an Auror, but I'm not sure – I'd like to play for the Cannons. You were _brilliant_ in that last game by the way – why don't you play pro Quidditch? Hermione's also sending a letter, its here as well if Pig hasn't lost it. Anyway, got to go,_

_Ron._

Harry smiled and picked up the Hermione's letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_I just received my exam results and they're really good! All 'O's! I've managed to purchase a building in Diagon Alley for S.P.E.W. – it's next to Fred and George's shop but I don't think that will do anything to our reputation. How did you do in your NEWTs by the way? Are you going to Auror College like Ron? _

_Love,_

_Hermione._

Quickly, Harry scribbled a reply:

_Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_I got 2 'O's, 3 'E's and an 'A'. Well done to both of you! I'm going to Auror College – Ron, please come too. You've got the grades, and you're my best friend! And Hermione, give up on SPEW, please!_

_Harry._

"_Ennervate_." He revived Pig with his wand. The owl stood up groggily, the whizzed round the room at high speed. Harry tied the note to the owl's leg and he flew off twittering happily. Harry sat down and picked up another piece of parchment, intending to write a letter back to the Ministry, but Uncle Vernon called downstairs: "BOY!!!"

Harry got up again and went downstairs. "Yes?" he asked, towering over his uncle.

"I've got a letter," said Uncle Vernon. "For you. Here."

He thrust the letter into Harry's hand. He took it and returned upstairs to read. It was written on notepaper:

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but I have recently published a book about you, which is available to Muggles. I apologise profusely. I am not a witch myself, but I accidentally stumbled upon Hogwarts five years ago and Albus Dumbledore asked me to make an in-depth biography of you, using advanced Pensieve techniques. I have only written about your first year at Hogwarts so far, and I was wondering if I could continue. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Joanne Rowling._

It had been a strange day. __


	2. Mason and Hutt

_Chapter 2: Mason and Hutt_

The next day, Harry packed together all of his belongings, got on his broomstick, and flew off under his Invisibility Cloak. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed very happy that he was finally out of the house – they held a huge party and invited all the neighbours round.

Harry landed outside the Leaky Cauldron, a small, shabby pub on Charing Cross Road, less than an hour later. He pulled off his Invisibility Cloak – no Muggles noticed him appearing from thin air, but a few pigeons did and hurriedly took flight. Pushing open the door, he entered the pub.

"'Morning, Mr. Potter," said Tom, the toothless old barman. "Got time for a drink?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sorry. I'll come back later. Can I leave these here?" He motioned at his trunk and broomstick.

"Of course!" smiled Tom. "Just put them down in front of the bar."

A few minutes later, Harry stepped out into Diagon Alley. There were a number of things he planned to do: get his Auror equipment, see Ron and Hermione, visit Fred and George, and then, that afternoon, take his Apparition test. He had been training to Apparate (disappear from one place and appear in another) since last summer, although his final year at school meant he had had to delay his test. Nevertheless, Andy Anzac's Apparition was very good, and he was sure he could pass with flying colours. But firstly, he wanted to buy a new house.

Where to live was something Harry had been pondering over for the last few weeks. At Auror College rooms would be provided, but he needed somewhere for the holidays. His dead godfather Sirius' old house was the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, an organisation of volunteers that helped the Ministry of Magic track down Dark wizards, and although everyone was sure Sirius would have given it to Harry if he hadn't been an convicted, though innocent, murderer and had a say in the matter, it was a busy, noisy place and not particularly homely. What was more, it reminded Harry of his godfather's death, which he didn't like to think about. He had given his old broomstick, a Firebolt and present from Sirius, to Neville Longbottom at the start of their sixth year, and bought the new Nimbus 2500 instead. As a result, Neville had greatly improved at Quidditch with his new broom, which had helped him gain confidence in other areas. Whilst he was not brilliant, Harry thought he could at least play for an amateur side.

Looking around, Harry spotted the wizarding estate agents', Mason and Hutt. It was a small building with pictures of strange looking houses in the window. Harry went inside.

"Good morning. How may I serve you?" asked a young, blonde witch at a desk.

"Erm ..." began Harry, "I want to buy a house."

The witch nodded and smiled at him, her eyes flicking to the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. "We have a wide selection of apartments, cottages, houses and mansions available, Mr. Potter."

Harry didn't ask how she knew his name. "Yes, well, I want something quite … cheap."

His parents had left him a small fortune, but Harry was sure that seven years at Hogwarts and a new broomstick would have reduced that significantly. Houses weren't cheap – the minimum price was at least five thousand Galleons.

"We have a nice little cottage in Godric's Hollow. You know, in Yorkshire – mostly wizarding village but with a couple of Muggle inhabitants – it's where a lot of Muggleborns send their parents when they get old."

Godric's Hollow. Where Harry's parents had lived. He'd never been there. "How much?"

"Oh, about ten thousand. It was well looked after by its last owner, so you shouldn't have to spend much on maintenance, she put lots of charms on it to keep it clean."

Ten thousand. Harry could just about afford that. He was beginning to realise how expensive it was to be a wizard – taxes had to be paid to the Ministry, although presumably he'd be left out of that as a government-employed worker, wireless licensing fees had to be paid to the WWN, food had to be bought …

"Can I look around sometime?"

"Yes, of course," replied the witch. "If you'd just like to step into the fireplace for the Floo… house is called Saddle Cottage"

The Floo – a magical transportation network – was yet another thing that would have to be paid for. Harry took a handful of powder from the pot beside the fireplace and through it into the grate. The flames roared a bright green colour. Harry stepped in and, trying not to cough, shouted "Saddle Cottage!"

He was spinning around at amazing speed, he could see fireplaces whizzing past him, he tucked his elbows in and then …

"Welcome, sir! Would you like a tour?"

It was a house-elf. Harry stood up and looked down – the bald creature had a pointed nose and bat-like ears and was wearing an old blanket. Hermione would have tried to set it free in an instant. "Do you come with the house?" asked Harry.

"Yes sir!" said the elf. "My name is Neddy. I will show you around now."

"OK," replied Harry. "So this is the kitchen, right?"

"Right," squeaked the elf. "What is your name, sir?"

"Harry Potter."

The elf gasped. "Master Potter! I is not seeing you for a long time! Welcome back!"

"Pardon?" said Harry. What was Neddy talking about?

"Before Madam Ticklit took me in, my master was your grandfather, Mr. Potter! He and his wife was killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir." The elf's ears drooped slightly.

"You can call him Voldemort," said Harry. "He's gone now, anyway."

"Yes, Mr. Potter, you destroyed him, sir! You are a great wizard, and kind too Neddy hears, like your father and his father as well. I remembers you when you was just a little baby, sir!"

Harry smiled. "Really? OK, show me around."

Neddy nodded. "Yes sir! This is the kitchen, as you can see, here is the fireplace, the oven and the dining table."

The elf showed Harry all around the house, as well as the kitchen, there was a hallway and a study on the ground floor, a lounge and a bedroom on the first and a bathroom and another bedroom on the second. There was also a cellar and an attic, both filled with old boxes and crates, and a garden filled with wonderful plants. "You must mind the fairies in the trees," squeaked Neddy. "They can be very selfish."

"Thanks for showing me around, Neddy," said Harry.

"It is a pleasure, sir," squeaked the elf. "I hopes you wishes to buy the cottage."

"You know what Neddy?" answered Harry. "I think I will!"


	3. Auror Supplies and Old Acquaintances

_Chapter 3: Auror Supplies and Old Acquaintances _

By twelve o'clock Harry had signed all the necessary documents and asked the goblins at Gringotts Wizard Bank to hand over ten thousand gold Galleons to Mason and Hutt, and was ready to visit Ron and Hermione. He found the shop easily – a large black and gold sign above the door read _S.P.E.W.: Free the House Elves_. It looked rather strange beside the shop next door, where the writing was a bright cat-sick yellow – _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_.

As Harry pushed open the door a doorbell rang and Hermione, who had a lot of bushy brown hair, stepped out of a back room. "HARRY!" she yelled. "It's so good to see you again! We got your letter!"

Harry smiled. "Yeah. Well done on your results."

"You too Harry. RON! Harry's here!"

Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend, came sidling out of the back room. He had longish, red hair, freckles and was wearing bright orange robes with a speeding cannonball sprawled across the chest. Underneath were two words – _Fingers Crossed_.

"Hi, Harry. Take your hat off. Good summer?"

Harry removed his pointed wizard's hat and put it down on the counter, obscuring a large picture of a house elf beating itself with a broom, and nodded. "Yes. Ron, you _have _to come to Auror College. Please."

"Don't worry, mate," smiled Ron. "Hermy's already sent off my application. D'you want to get the stuff this afternoon?"

"'Kay. I was planning to go and see Fred and George. I've bought a house by the way! In Godric's Hollow."

Hermione looked at him. "Wow! That's amazing! It's one of only seven communities in the UK where Muggles and wizards live in harmony. Only parents of Muggleborns, spouses of wizards and witches and Squibs of course. Not just any old people."

"Oh," replied Harry. "Great. I was planning on visiting Fred and George – want to come?"

"Alright. They haven't left us alone all summer! Coming, Hermione?"

"I can't leave the shop, Ron!" said Hermione indignantly.

"We get, what, three visitors a day? Come on, it can't hurt to leave for a few minutes!"

"If you say so, Ron, but fifteen minutes at the most."

"Then we'll go to the pub," whispered Ron.

"Mind the doormat!" warned Hermione as they entered Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. "They've got a new one."

"AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!" Harry was catapulted ten feet into the air, sped around the tops of the shelves, did three somersaults and landed with a "FLUMP!" on his backside in front of the counter.

"Welcome to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, 93 Diagon Alley, London, for all the tricks you want, served with a smile. We are the new purveyors of magical mischief-makers. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes – making life feel funnier!" said Fred, as antlers erupted magically from his head.

"Hi, Harry," said George.

"Hi," breathed Harry getting to his feet.

"Don't worry," smiled Fred. "The mat only does that on your first five visits."

The shop appeared to have changed somewhat since Harry's last visit the previous summer. The walls were now bright pink and the shelves were filled with even more mysterious looking items. "Where's Remus?" asked Harry. Remus Lupin worked at the shop – he was a werewolf and had problems getting a job.

"Behind you," said a voice. Harry span around to see a wizard with greying hair, though he didn't look nearly as tired as he had last time Harry had seen him – the previous summer, when he had taken on the job. "Good afternoon, Harry."

"Hi. How ya doing?"

"Never better," replied Remus. "And you?"

"Great."

"Oy, Harry," said George. "Ron, Hermione. Listen. There's something we've got to tell you!"

"What?" the three asked in unison.

"Well," said George, "you know the Quidditch World Cup?"

"England are playing the US in the quarter-finals next week," continued Fred.

"And we've got tickets for the game. It's in Turkey. Now, we've got six tickets, so that's one for each of us and another for Remus – it's his fortieth birthday. Don't tell him – he doesn't know."

"Well, he does know it's his birthday. Just not about the present."

Harry looked around. Remus was at the other side of the shop, showing a small boy some grey coloured beans.

"What are they?" asked Harry. "The things Remus has got?"

"Werewolf Wonders," answered George. "They were his idea. They turn you into a wolf for a few minutes. You keep your mind, of course. Really good for scaring your parents."

"Right," said Harry. Ron had gone over to a shelf of brightly coloured joke books that were giggling amongst themselves – Hermione was wandering amongst the items on sale, marvelling at the charms which Fred, George and Remus had been using. "How are your parents doing?"

"They're okay. So's Ginny."

Hermione gave a yell as an entire shelf caught fire, disintegrated and then appeared on the other side of the shop.

"Better be going," said Harry. "I'm going to Andros Auror Training College, you know."

A few pints of Firewhisky later, Harry and Ron stumbled back out into Diagon Alley. "What do we need to get?" asked Ron. Harry pulled out a slip of paper from a pocket in his robes and read aloud:

_Students at Andros will require:_

_3 sets of work robes in black, dark grey or blue_

_2 sets of sports robes in red, yellow or orange_

_1 pair of protective gloves _

_1 winter cloak of any colour _

_1 Invisibility Cloak_

_The following books:_

_'The Art of Disguise'_

_'Dark Wizard Capture'_

_'Magical Theory'_

_'Encyclopaedia of Further Charmwork'_

_'Always Watching: How To Stay Safe' _

_'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' _

_'A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions'_

_'The Dark Arts Outsmarted'_

_'Guide to Advanced Transfiguration'_

_'Practical Defensive Magical and Its Use Against the Dark Arts'_

_'Self-Defensive Spellwork'_

_'Advanced Potion Making'_

_'Staying Alive: Recognising Poisons' _

_'Create Your Own Magic: Self-Invention of Spells'_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (extra-thick pewter, standard size 3)_

_3 sets glass or crystal phials_

_1 set brass scales_

_A set of quills and parchment_

_1 pocket-sized Sneakoscope_

_1 small Foe Glass_

_1 small Secrecy Sensor_

_1 two-way mirror_

_1 magical penknife_

_1 Revealer_

_1 Time Turner_

_1 broomstick_

_Students may bring one small pet._

_Please show this letter to shopkeepers as proof that you have license for these items. Misuse of any of these items will result in immediate expulsion._

"Wow," breathed Ron, as Harry fell to the floor in exhaustion. "That's a lot!"

"I know," panted Harry. "But we've got half it already. Where are we meant to find the rest? Knockturn Alley?"

"I dunno," said Ron. "Maybe. We've got till October though. Maybe we'll be able to get some things in Turkey."

Two hours later, Harry and Ron returned to the S.P.E.W. shop and dumped their shopping on the counter, which greatly annoyed Hermione and her cat, Crookshanks, who had been sleeping where Ron put down his new Invisibility Cloak, which they had bought from a small shop at one end of the alley, along with most of the other Auror equipment. They still had a lot left to purchase – Flourish and Blotts didn't seem to sell a lot of the books and the Auror shop was full of some thick smoke so it was immensely hard to breathe. Harry had kindly bought most of Ron's things for him, and the money in his Gringotts vault was incredibly low. He had decided to get a holiday job to get a few more Galleons.

"Bye, then," he shouted to Ron and Hermione. "I've got to go to my Apparition test – back soon!"

"Bye!" replied Ron and Hermione shouted, "Be careful!"


	4. Licence To Apparate

_Chapter 4: Licence to Apparate _

Harry soon arrived at the Visitors' Entrance to the Ministry of Magic, where he was taking his test, on his Nimbus. He stepped inside the vandalised telephone box and dialled the number – a soft female voice answered, "Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter. I'm here for an Apparition test."

"Please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

A badge shot out of the returned coins chute, it read _Harry Potter, Apparition Test Candidate_. Harry pinned in on to his robes. The female voice continued.

"You are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The telephone box began to sink slowly into the ground. After about a minute it reached to a stop and the voice said, "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

The door sprang open and Harry stepped into the hall. The Fountain of Magical Brethren, which he, Dumbledore and Voldemort had wrecked in a duel two years earlier, had been repaired, although it was not quite as splendid as before. Harry walked up the hall to a desk under a sign that read 'Security'.

"I'm here for my Apparition test," said Harry to the wizard at the desk.

"Ah, Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you. Step over here." He passed a flexible golden up and down Harry's front and back. "Can I have your wand?" Harry handed to him. The wizard placed it on a brass instrument like a set of scales with one dish. It vibrated and a strip of parchment sped out of the base.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use eight years?" read the wizard.

"Yes."

"Have it back. Can you just wait over there, please?" He gestured to one corner. Harry walked over and stood there nervously.

"Harry!" He spun around. It was Bill Weasley, Ron's brother, the new Minister for Magic and the youngest for over a century. He held left his previous job at Gringotts Bank two years ago, on Dumbledore's advice, and had risen quickly through the ranks, being elected the month before.

"Hi," said Harry. "I'm here for my Apparition test."

Bill nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Say hello to Ron for me. Sorry, but I've got to go. I've got a hard job." He smiled, and walked off. A man in his forties passed him, saying "Morning, Minister", then came up to Harry. "Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to oversee your Apparition test. First you have to prove you know the theory well enough, then we see if you can Apparate. Follow me."

He walked into the lift at the end of the Atrium, Harry close behind. With a clattering noise, they descended two floors to Level Six. "We're going to the Apparition Test Centre," said the man. "This way." He led Harry down a corridor and through a pair of heavy oak doors into a small room with desks and a blackboard like a classroom.

"Sit down," said the wizard. "Now, I want you to answer the questions. You shouldn't find them difficult. Here's your parchment and your quill. You have half an hour – begin."

The wizard was right – the questions weren't hard. Harry completed them with five minutes to spare. "Finished already?" asked the wizard. "OK, give me your answers and come over here. Now, I want you to Apparate to the Museum of Quidditch. You know where I mean? It's near Buckingham Palace. Ready? Go!"

_Museum of Quidditch, Museum of Quidditch_, thought Harry, trying to picture it in his mind's eye. It was one of the destinations Andy Anzac had like him to go to. _Museum of Quidditch, Museum of Quid … _CRACK! Harry felt his feet leave the ground. For a millisecond he glimpsed a blur of colour then … bump! He landed softly on his feet outside the handsome marble building, feeling very faintly sick.

"Well done!" praised the examiner, who was standing beside him. "Now, if you'd just like to come back to the Ministry, where our AutoMark quill should have finished checking your answers, we can see if you've passed."

"I did it!" shouted Harry, stepping back into the S.P.E.W. Shop. "I passed!"

"Good one!" praised Ron.

"Well done, Harry," congratulated Hermione.

"Thanks," grinned Harry, and sat down over a poster of an elf doing the washing-up. The moving photo of the elf looked at him in an annoyed manner, and continued with its work. "I'm tired though. Mind if I stop here for the night? I can't be bothered to go back to Saddle Cottage."

"Of course you can stay," said Hermione. "You'll have to sleep in the living room, I'm afraid – we don't have a spare bedroom."

Over the next few days, Harry saw several of his old friends around Diagon Alley. While he was looking for some of the hard-to-find items on his list he heard a yell from behind him.

"Potter!"

He turned to see Draco Malfoy behind him. He was filled automatically with hatred, which he tried to fight back as he remembered that his archenemy was attempting to turn over a new leaf.

Malfoy had been present at the final battle with Voldemort, but realised how terrible really fighting actually was when his father ordered him to kill Ron Weasley. He chickened out, and had spent most of the last few weeks of term in hospital after Lucius had cursed him.

The striking thing about Malfoy was how shabby he was – he had paid damages to the families of those his father had killed, thinking it the best way to make up.

"Er – have you got a job yet?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"Of course, Potter," Malfoy drawled, and Harry fought back a desire to punch him. "I'm working at the apothecary; I've been promoted twice already. And you? I suppose you're just –" He broke off, battling the urge to insult Harry.

"I'm becoming an Auror," said Harry shortly.

"Oh," replied Malfoy. "Well, goodbye."

"Bye," said Harry.

"Oh, and Potter –" said Malfoy, after walking a few steps up the road. "Get a new look. Round glasses aren't exactly the height of fashion."

The next day, Harry bumped into Neville Longbottom. "Hi, Harry," he said. "I've got a job now, have you?"

Harry nodded. "I'm becoming an Auror, Neville!"

"Wow!" Neville breathed. "That's great! Did you get an 'O' in DADA? I did, just, and one in Herbology: I'm going to become a fulltime herbologist. And I've got a place with the reserves on the local Quidditch side: the Barton Buzzards. Heard of them?"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry. Maybe I'll join, when I've finished the Auror course."

Neville smiled widely. "You can't exactly be an Auror _and_ a professional player, can you? Not that you're not good enough."

It was a very eventful time of Harry's life.


	5. New Look Harry

_Chapter 5: New Look Harry_

After he thought he had done everything he needed to, Harry decided to take Draco's advice and get a 'new look'. Draco had popped in to the S.P.E.W. shop while Harry was also paying a visit, and had made a very generous donation, telling Harry that he should visit O'Hare's Barber and I.C.U. Glass's Optician. Harry still hadn't told Hermione about Neddy, and was wondering what she'd say when she found out.

I.C.U. Glass's was a small shop with a massive pair of spectacles above the door – they looked big enough to fit the giant Grawp. Grawp was Hagrid, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts', half-brother and was progressively learning English. Harry had recently met Hagrid in Knockturn Alley – the huge man was overjoyed to see Harry and pulled him into a tight hug that nearly killed him. Harry pushed open the door to find a room that was completely devoid of glasses.   

"Er … hello," he said to Mr. Glass, a small man in spectacles that were five times too big for him. "I'd like to get some new glasses."

"Right," squeaked Mr. Glass. "Give me your old ones then."

Harry did so – the shopkeeper placed them on an instrument not unlike the wand-weigher at the Ministry of Magic. It vibrated slightly then … KERCHING! 

An entire wall had filled with a vast array of glasses, each just the right size for Harry, but in a huge variety of types. There were glasses like Harry's old ones, shades, tinted glasses, glasses in twelve different colours, glasses that flashed twelve different colours, glasses that gave out light, glasses that gave you eagle vision …

"Er …" said Harry. "Can I try some on?"

"Certainly," squeaked Mr. Glass. 

Harry put on pair of glasses after pair of glasses, but in the end he chose some black shades with eyepieces shaped like birds' wings, paid Mr. Glass three Galleons, eighteen Sickles, twenty-eight Knuts, and left to O'Hare's.

The owner of O'Hare's had a German mother and an Irish father, and liked to be called Herr O'Hare, Draco had told Harry. When Harry entered he stood up and greeted him in German: "_Guten Morgen_."     

"Hello," said Harry. "I was wondering – could you give me anything to make my hair grow quicker?" He had decided he wanted a style like his dead godfather's, but he didn't really want to grow it naturally – it would take at least a year and probably more.

"You vos vondering correctly," said Herr O'Hare in a strong accent. "Ve haf a large selection of different potions to make hair grow long. Vud you like to try Madam Nitt's?"

"Oh, all right," said Harry. "How much will it be?"

"It vill be elefen silfer Sickles a yar," said Herr O'Hare. "It iss the best falue ve haf."

He handed over a jar of blue liquid. Harry passed him the money. "Can I put it on now?"

"_Ja_."

Harry broke the seal and took out some of the potion. It was sticky to the touch. "Rub it in vell," said Herr O'Hare. Harry placed some on his hair, spread it all over and felt long hair tickle his shoulders. He touched it. It was greasy to feel.

"You vill need to put it on efery veek."  

"OK. Do you have anything to remove the grease?" Harry asked. He thought he had found out from where Snape got his hairstyle.

"Oh, _ja, natürlich_. Take diss. It vill be twelf Sickles." He handed Harry a bottle of green potion. Harry poured some over his head. There was a fizzling noise and Harry's head burned hot for a second, and the grease was gone.

"Thank you very much."

"It iss a pleasure. _Auf Wiedersehen_."   

 As Harry walked back to the Leaky Cauldron so he could get home, he noticed another of his old friends: a seventeen-year-old girl with protuberant eyes and straggly blonde hair.  "Luna!" he exclaimed. 

The girl looked at him oddly. "Who are you?"

Harry laughed. Of course, the new look! "Harry," he said, taking off his glasses. Everything went rather blurry. "I'm Harry."

"Oh," said Luna. "Right. Hello." And she hugged him, kissed him and walked off, leaving Harry feeling rather strange. He put on his glasses and called her back. "Luna!"

She turned. "Yes?"

"How are you? You're here for your Hogwarts things, I suppose?"

"Yes. Have you got a job yet?"

"Yeah – I'm becoming an Auror!" grinned Harry.

"Great. Did you see that Terma Oh Ducca fly over the other day?"

"No. I'm going to the World Cup next week!"

"Really? Dad couldn't get tickets, again. Well, I'm in a hurry, bye!" She left, humming a tune.

"Master, sir, master, I is seeing Dobby, and Winky, and Harry, sir!" squeaked Neddy when Harry arrived home.

"Really?" asked Harry, sitting down on a bright red England Quidditch chair. Dobby and Winky were house-elves who were mad about Harry, and their son of the same name was very cute. "Where?" 

"In the village, sir. They is taking their holidays there."

"Did they want to see me?" questioned Harry.

"Yes, sir, they did, sir. They is here, sir, now, sir. Behind you, sir!"

Harry turned to see the three elves giggling behind him. "Hi," he breathed.

"Good morning, Mr. Harry Potter!" squeaked Dobby and Winky, whilst Harry the baby elf waved. 

"How are you?" asked Harry.

"Never better, sir!" said Dobby. "We has got you lunch!" He clicked his long fingers and food appeared on the kitchen table – a full roast meal.

Harry gasped. He hadn't had such a good meal since he left Hogwarts. Hermione's cooking tended to be slightly burnt, Ron could just about make toast with his wand, the Leaky Cauldron was expensive and Neddy's cooking was good, but of course it was hard work for him to make it all on his own. Harry could make breakfast; he had done it for the Dursleys many times; but not much else. "Thanks, Dobby, Winky … Harry!" he said. The small elf smiled. "This is great! Give some to Hedwig, Neddy."

"Of course, sir," squeaked the elf, and Harry began to tuck in, the small elf who was named after him stealing scraps of food while Winky tried to drag him back. 


	6. Turkey

_Chapter 6: Turkey_

"Everyone ready?" asked George. He, Fred, Ron, Harry and Hermione were waiting inside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and were about to begin to Apparate to Turkey for the Quidditch World Cup. "OK, Fred, go and get Remus." His twin left, and returned a minute later forcing a sleepy looking Remus into the centre of the group.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" everyone chorused. 

Remus smiled. "That's the first time anyone's remembered my birthday for a long time. But … why are you all carrying bags?"

"It's your present," said Fred slyly. "We're going to the Quidditch World Cup!"

Remus gasped. "You're joking! I'll go and get my stuff."

"It's here," said George, passing him a cloth bag from behind the counter. "Angelina's going to look after the shop. She was a bit reluctant at first but we … persuaded her."

"You'll need these," said Fred, taking six headphones out of his robes. "Put them on."

"What are they?" asked Harry.

"Language Listeners," said George. "They let you hear foreign tongues in your own language. But they won't let you talk in other languages, so you'll have to shake or nod your head."

Harry put his Language Listeners on – they were comfortably warm.  

"OK," said Fred. "Now, Turkey's too far away to Apparate to in one go, so we're going to go in four shorter hops. First to France, then to Italy, then to Greece and finally to the stadium where the game's taking place. Ready?"

"Where exactly do we need to go to?" asked Hermione. 

"A wood near Paris," said George. "Forêt de la Crevette Grise. We'll have to go through security checks. The French Ministry have set up Apparition Beacons to help you home in on the right place."

Harry had gone over Apparition Beacons at Andy Anzac's. They were magical flares that helped you to get to exactly the right point, even if you couldn't visualise the place.

"All at the same time, then?" asked Fred. "Three, two, one …"

_Forêt de la Crevette Grise_, thought Harry. CRACK! He was speeding through space, being drawn in to some magnetic force then … "Welcome. Please let me perform a quick check before you continue to your next destination," crackled a voice through Harry's headphones. The words didn't fit the lips of the man who was speaking to him. 

The security check was similar to the one at the Ministry of Magic, and when the French wizard said he could go Harry joined his friends again. "Now, next, we need to go to …" started George.

Three Apparitions later, Harry arrived in Turkey. An elderly wizard in a turban was checking their names off on a long piece of parchment covered in Arabic and another man who could have been his son was passing the now familiar golden rod down their bodies and checking their wands.

"Name?" asked the elder wizard.

"George Weasley," said Fred. The wizard checked his list. "Pass. Name?"

"Fred Weasley," said George.

"Pass. Name?"

"Harry Potter," said Harry, stepping forwards.

"Name?" repeated the wizard.

"Harry Potter."

"You're joking."

"No." Harry shook his head and pulled back his fringe to reveal his lightning-bolt scar. "I'm Harry Potter." 

"If you say so," groaned the wizard. "Pass. Name?"

"Are you really Harry Potter?" asked the younger wizard, who was only as old as Harry.

Harry nodded. The wizard breathed a Turkish word that wasn't translated, but probably meant 'Wow'. He then passed his rod quickly up and down Harry's front and back, took Harry's wand, checked it, and nodded his approval. "Good. Can I check your bag?"

Harry let him look inside it. "Fine. Go now."

"We're going to be staying here," said Fred, motioning towards a patch of ground outside a small Quidditch stadium with minarets and a couple of domes. 

"Isn't the stadium a bit small?" asked Harry. The World Cup stadium had been a lot bigger, though no grander. 

"No," said Remus. "This is just the quarter-finals, remember. England versus the US isn't a bit game for most Turks. They'll be watching their own team playing France down south. This is actually one of the biggest stadiums in the country – seats five thousand."

"Right," said Harry. "Football stadiums are much bigger."

"Yes," said Remus. "But there's a lot more Muggles than wizards in the world and Quidditch isn't exactly a big sport in Turkey. Their team's done well to get this far. You get half the wizarding population of Turkey in here."

"A third," said George.

"Whatever," said Remus. "The figure's not important. I'll expect it'll be full anyway. About one thousand English, three thousand Americans and another thousand pick 'n' mix from around the world. People who wanted to see a game and could only get tickets for this one. Thanks again for taking me here. We'd better set up a tent. When does the referee throw up?"

Hermione sniggered. "He means start the game by throwing the Quaffle in the air," hissed Ron. 

"Two o'clock," said Fred. "Blimey, it's hot."

They had finished putting up the tents, of which there were three, each with two bedrooms incorporated into them, by half past eleven. They were sitting outside relaxing in the heat when a wizard dressed extravagantly in red approached them. "Would you like a carpet ride?" he asked. He must have been speaking in English, because Harry had his Language Listener off. "I can give you rides for just one Hittite each."

"Hittite?" Harry asked under his breath. 

"The wizarding currency of the Middle East," whispered Remus. George looked over at him. "Hey, birthday boy! Should we go?"

"Why not?" replied Remus. "You'll be paying for me though." 

"Is it your birthday?" asked the wizard. "Congratulations. Please call me Izmir. If you would like to follow me."

The magic carpet was about twelve feet long and eight feet wide, and they all sat down on it feeling rather foolish, Izmir cross-legged at the front. Harry had paid Fred three Sickles for his Hittite, although he wasn't sure if that was the exchange rate. "Are we all seating comfortably?" asked Izmir. There was a general murmur of agreement. "Then we will – begin."

The carpet floated smoothly and gracefully into the air and hovered three feet above the ground. "Everyone OK?" asked Izmir. "Nobody get airsick? Then we will go – up!"

The carpet began to rise. The Dursleys had never let Harry on a roller coaster, but he could tell instantly that this would be the best ride of all if it were in a theme park. It did whatever you asked it too instantly. "How fast can it go?" he asked.

"The carpet?" asked Izmir. "Oh, I don't know, about two hundred kilometres per hour, something like that? Would you like to try?"

"No," said Hermione instantly. 

Izmir smiled. "Maybe later, huh?"

They drifted over plains, mountains and valleys, looking down into small villages and herds of strange animals. "Everyone still OK?" asked Izmir. "Anyone like a go at piloting? The birthday man?"

Remus smiled, and shuffled forwards. "Don't worry, you can't fall off," reassured Izmir. "Now, just tell the carpet what you want to do?"

"Stop," commanded Remus, and the carpet stopped, hovering half a mile above the ground. Remus smiled. "James would have loved this. And Sirius." He was quiet for a minute. "Forward."

The carpet shot off like a rocket, making everyone scream. "Slow down, slow down," shouted Remus.

"You must be patient with it," Izmir told him. "Be calm."

"Slow," said Remus. The carpet slowed. He guided it around for a few minutes, before handing control back to the Turk.

"OK," said Izmir, "let's go!"

The carpet shot off even faster than before and Harry's long hair was whipped back. It turned five somersaults and rushed towards the ground at tremendous speed, they were going to hit the campsite, they were going to crash, families were ducking for cover –

"Land," commanded Izmir, and the carpet stopped perfectly in front of the tents. "I'll suppose you'll want to go to the match now."  


	7. The Quidditch Stadium

_Chapter 7: The Quidditch Stadium_

They all put their Language Listeners on, which took about five minutes longer than it should have done because Ron had to get his off George, and walked up to the nearest entrance to the stadium, in a gate at the bottom of a tower. The queue was short and there were several English people wearing Language Listeners, and they soon got to the wizard checking the tickets. He directed them up the spiral staircase in the tower and down into the third row from the top, seats 1 to 6, Block 9. It was quite a long climb in the darkened tower and they walked out into blazing sunlight. The oval Quidditch pitch was down below and the small figures of the players could be seen warming up in their training cloaks.

"Got your Omnioculars?" asked Fred, sitting down the seat nearest the steps. Everyone held them up or nodded – Omnioculars were just like binoculars with extra functions, and Harry had bought his, Hermione's and Ron's at the last World Cup, the rest had got them cheaply in Diagon Alley. 

A man came along selling programmes – they bought one in English between the six of them. A moving picture of the United States Seeker and captain, Maximus Brankovitch III, graced the cover. George spat on his face. 

"It'll be interesting to see what robes they're wearing when they come back out," asked Remus as the players jogged back into the changing rooms. "You know, as the colours would normally clash."

"It says on the back of the programme: England will wear red, whilst the USA will wear blue and white stripes," read George. "I'm getting something to drink."

He returned a few minutes later with butterbeers and an ice cream for each of them. "They didn't have anything alcoholic," he said. "So I got this," he motioned to the warming butterbeer, "and the ice creams to cool you down."

"Look," hissed Hermione. "It's starting." She pointed to a small glass box beside the scoreboard, where a wizard in golden robes had just appeared and was welcoming the fans.

"Welcome to this Quidditch World Cup quarter final game between," he shouted, his voice magically magnified to fill the stadium, "the United States of America," the opposite half of the stadium erupted into cheers and the American flag could be seen flying in several places, "and England!" Harry and the rest of the England supporters yelled their approval, although the smaller numbers meant that the noise wasn't as loud as the USA's, but it was a close thing. 

"Let's hope you get a good birthday present," said Fred to Remus.

"And now," boomed the announcer. "Please welcome the team's mascots!"

Wizards and witches were leading animals onto the pitch – England had Nifflers, small, black and furry animals, and the US had Clabberts – animals that looked like crosses between monkeys and frogs, with glowing pustules on their heads. The Nifflers were attracted to anything glittery, and had to be kept on leads to stop them gnawing at the three fifty-foot high golden goalposts at each end on the pitch.      

"Our referee for today," continued the announcer. "All the way from Australia, please welcome Ricky Herbert!"

A well-built wizard with a long brown beard sped onto the pitch. Harry focused his Omnioculars onto him and saw that he was wearing black robes and a large smile.

"Also, please welcome the lineswizards and witches for today's game," said the announcer. Lineswizards stood around the pitch to stop the balls and players from straying over the boundary line – there were six of them and they all wore black like Ricky Herbert.

"And now," roared the announcer. "The players, the reserves and the trainers! For the United States of America, I give you – Cutler!" A player in blue and white striped robes with a star on the front and back sped onto the pitch. 

"Pugh!" A second player flew out into the arena.

"Prestwood! Haden! Russell! Sommerfield! And … BRANKOVITCH!"

The US captain zoomed out – waving to his cheering fans. He was small but muscly, with thick blond hair and a bruise across his face, riding a Firebolt, the American-made broomstick that rivalled the Nimbus 2500.

"Please welcome the England National Quidditch team! I give you – Wood!"

A broad-shoulder player, dressed all in red with his name and white 'K', to show his position to the referee, on the back of his robes flew into the stadium and circled the goalposts.  

"Oliver?" said Harry. Oliver Wood had been the Gryffindor House Quidditch captain and Keeper for Harry's first three years at Hogwarts, and played for Puddlemere United.

"Must be," said George, looking equally stunned. "Looks like him," he said, peering through his Omnioculars. "Come on Oliver!"

"Oliver was down as a reserve," said Remus. "The usual Keeper fell off his broom in the last game – the mediwizards saved him, but he's still in shock. That must be why they're playing Wood."    

"Cowton!" boomed the announcer. "Ferguson! Jones! Guest! Parry! And … Venables!"

"It shouldn't be any problem for Oliver," said Fred, stopping cheering and resuming his seat. "He's a great Keeper, and America aren't exactly the best team ever."

Herbert, the referee, gave a sharp blast on his whistle and the players landed their brooms around the small central circle of the pitch. He then opened the large crate at his feet at released the Bludgers, black iron balls to knock the players off their brooms, and the Golden Snitch, a tiny winged ball which the Seekers tried to catch to end the game and gain one hundred and fifty points for their team. The Bludgers rose high into the air, and the Snitch flew off so fast it disappeared. The crowd held its breath as the Quaffle, the red leather ball that the three Chasers on each team tried to score goals with, was picked up by the referee. An official hurried forwards and carried away the crate, and Ricky Herbert smiled at each of the players and threw the Quaffle into the air, giving a blast on his whistle. The game had begun! 


	8. England versus the United States of Amer...

_Chapter 8: England versus the United States of America_

Ferguson grabbed the Quaffle immediately; he streaked up the pitch towards the US goalposts, passed quickly to Jones, who passed to Cowton.

"Kate Cowton has the Quaffle and – what's this?" shouted the announcer. "Cutler hasn't reached her goalposts yet, Cowton shoots – SHE SCORES! Brilliant long-range shot from Cowton, in just ten seconds!"

Harry jumped up and cheered along with the rest of the England supporters, but the American fans were looking dejected. They, as the announcer roared, had just conceded the fifth fastest goal in World Cup history and weren't happy about it.

"So England are ten points ahead!" boomed the announcer. Tracey Cutler throws the ball out, but it's intercepted by Martin Jones, he passes to captain Timothy Ferguson, he's advancing quickly on the goal – OUCH!"

Ferguson had just been hit by a Bludger batted at him by the US Beater Sommerfield. He dropped the Quaffle – it was intercepted by Pugh who rushed up the pitch with it.

"Excellent roll!" shouted the announcer, as Pugh dodged a Bludger hit at him by Kitty Guest. "Passes to Prestwood, back to Pugh, to Haden – she misses it! Intercepted by Timmy Ferguson, and you can see why he's the captain, he advancing on Cutler, he shoots – no, it was a dummy, he passes back to Cowton – she scores again! Twenty-nil to England!"

Harry checked his watch. They had been playing for just two minutes. He looked through his Omnioculars – Maximus Brankovitch and Francesca Venables were both peering around for the Snitch.

"And it's back to Haden, to Prestwood, he dodges a Bludger – coming at him by it's own accord, that one – and the other Bludger's just been hit at him by David Parry, but it's hit back by Russell – and Prestwood's dropped it! Caught by Jones for England …"

There were no more goals for the next five minutes, though England came close twice: the first shop missed and the second was saved. Harry took a sip of his Butterbeer and a lick of his ice cream – he had been so fascinated he hadn't touched them. They weren't the best Quidditch players he'd seen, but they weren't bad.

"And Cowton has the ball again, she's going to shoot – "

PHEEP! Ricky Herbert gave a blast on his whistle – Mark Pugh had deliberately collided with Kate Cowton, knocking her off her broom. Harry noticed Wood shaking his gloved fist.

"And it's a penalty to England but they can't seem to decide who's taking it – ah, Ferguson's being a good sport, he's letting Cowton have it, can she make it three goals? YES SHE CAN! THIRTY-ZERO!"

Harry cheered loudly and sloshed Butterbeer over the front of his robes – he dried them with a simple spell.

"And the United States have the Quaffle again, it's Haden, Prestwood, Pugh, Haden, Prestwood, Haden, Sommerfield stops the Bludger, Haden testing Keeper Wood for the first time, this is his international debut, can he save it – brilliant Starfish!"

Wood had pulled off the complicated Starfish and Stick move, hanging off his broom by one foot and one hand, and saved the shot, the Quaffle bouncing off his stomach and out to Jones.

"Go on Oliver!" shouted Ron loudly, causing the short, elderly wizard next to him to leapt sideways onto his tall, thin friend who shouted "OY! What d'ya think ya playin' at?"

In the next thirty minutes Wood made three more excellent saves, and Ferguson and Jones scored once each for England.

"LOOK AT BRANKOVITCH!" yelled the announcer – a blur of white and blue was speeding towards the ground, Venables following closely on her Nimbus 2500, her brown hair flying out behind her, Harry focused his Omnioculars, he could see the Snitch …

CRASH! A well-aimed Bludger from Parry hit Brankovitch in the arm, the Beater cheered; Venables hit Brankovitch at full speed and veered backwards. Meanwhile, Prestwood had the Quaffle, he shot … 

"Save it!" roared George, but it was too late, Wood had let in America's first goal of the game and the other side of the stadium exploded with cheers.

"It's not that bad, we're still forty points ahead and to let in one goal in forty minutes is pretty good going for someone on his debut," said Remus. "As long as Venables gets the Snitch soon, we'll win."

But Venables didn't get the Snitch soon. England scored four more and the USA two in the next hour and a quarter, and Brankovitch called for time out. As the players descended to the pitch, George left to get some more food and drink – they'd all finished their Butterbeer and ice cream by now.

He returned with cups of water and soup, which he gave out. "We'll get you a cake when we get home," he said to Remus. "Shall we go down and see Oliver?"

"No, they're restarting," said Harry, and sure enough, the players were gathering around the centre circle again. Herbert gave a sharp blast on his whistle and the players flew back up into the air. 

Within thirty seconds Venables saw the Snitch again. She streaked towards it, Brankovitch was too far behind to catch up … and suddenly it disappeared. Venables hand went inside her robes and Herbert gave a sharp blast on his whistle.

"Snitchnip!" roared the announcer.   

"I see!" said Fred. "Look, Cutler caught the Snitch! Bet she doesn't save the penalty!"

"You can get banned for a couple of matches for that," said Remus as Cutler released the Snitch. 

"Look," said Hermione. "America has got a penalty as well."

"Yeah, I think Venables swore or something," said Ron. "She looked really angry."

Ferguson took the England penalty first – he slotted the Quaffle easily into the middle goal. Then Prestwood flew up towards Wood, his arms out to intimidate the young Keeper, but Wood was alert and saved the shot easily. 

"ENGLAND ONE HUNDRED, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA THIRTY," roared the announcer. "And the game continues!"

After another hour of play England were ahead by one hundred and sixty points to fifty, and the players flew down for another session of time out. "Tea break," said George. "They'll be another half-hour. Fred, it's your turn to get some food."

Grudgingly, his twin brother left and returned with a full three-course meal in a paper bag. Harry thought it would take him about two hours to eat, even though the bag was quite small. However, he was about halfway through by the time the players came back to the pitch.

By seven o'clock England had scored another one hundred and ten points and the US had got another three shots past Wood. "If America catches the Snitch now, they'll lose," said Remus.

"Like Krum," sniggered Ron. However, the USA scored six to England's one in the next half-hour and, at 280-140, America was still in with a chance. Harry could see that Wood was getting tired.

Half an hour later, Harry finally finished his dinner, which had kept on replenishing itself. "I can now exclusively reveal that France has beaten Turkey by four sixty to ninety," boomed the announcer, sounding upset, "and that the winner of this game will play them in the semis." There was a groan throughout the stadium: France would be a hard side to beat.

"Look," said Fred to the group at short time later. "They've played for six hours now. They can bring on the reserves."

"How does it work?" asked Hermione.

"After six hours of play you can bring three out of seven reserves onto the pitch for your players," explained Remus. "They can play for a maximum of two hours each. Yes, they're doing it!"

Six reserves had left the sidelines, taking off their cloaks and were jogging up and down. The referee blew his whistle, and the players flew downwards to the ground. "England lead three hundred and ninety to two hundred and sixty," shouted the announcer. "And the reserves coming on: for England, Danby, George and Jenkins for Guest, Parry and Jones, and for the USA Simon, Huq and Baker for Pugh, Haden and Russell."

"Go Joey!" shouted Ron. Joey Jenkins was a Chudley Cannons player.

"I wonder why the captain's not taking off Wood," asked Remus. "He looks very tired."

"He's never played for this long at this level," said Ron.

"He's never played at this level, nitwit," said George.

England scored another goal in the next ten minutes, a penalty, and the sun was starting to set when …

"LOOK AT VENABLES!" screamed the announcer.

Harry put his Omnioculars to his eyes, Francesca Venables was streaking towards something gold, Brankovitch was following, but Venables had the faster broomstick, she was going to get there first …

"YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS!"

Venables had caught the Snitch, she held it high above her head, England had won, the players were closing in on their Seeker, Brankovitch was shaking his head but he raised it and waved to the crowd …

They got back to the tents fifteen minutes later to find a letter inside the largest one. Fred picked it up and opened it. He scanned it quickly and his jubilant face fell.

"What is it?" everyone asked.

"It's Ginny," said Fred. "She's pregnant."     


	9. Confusion

_Chapter 9: Confusion_

Harry took off his Language Listeners and brushed back his hair with his fingers – his ears were sweaty and he wasn't sure if he'd heard right.

"She's WHAT?" asked Ron, his voice shaking angrily.

"She's pregnant," repeated Fred. 

"And who, may I ask, is the father?"

"She doesn't know," replied Fred.

"How can she not know?" bellowed Ron. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever – "

"She could have been raped," said Hermione timidly, her hand on his shoulder.

"Raped?" spat Ron. "Well, you going to know if you've been raped, aren't you?"

"Not if they use a Memory Charm," replied Hermione.

Ron stuttered, then fell into silence. After a few moments, he said, "We're going home."

"What do you mean?"

"Ron, it's nearly ten o'clock at night."

"We can't just march straight into the Burrow. They'll all be in bed."

"Ron, I know how you feel, but it can wait till morning."

"We're going home," repeated Ron. "Now." He flicked his wand and the tents haphazardly folded themselves up and tipped out their owners' belongings. Ron picked up his bag and marched in the direction of the Apparition point.

"Ron! You can't!" shouted Harry, but his best friend wasn't turning back. Resignedly they followed.

They arrived back in England fifteen minutes later outside Ron's mum and dad's house, the Burrow. Ron marched up to the door and rang the bell. There was a loud clanging noise and, a few minutes later Mrs. Weasley, a short, plump woman, opened the door looking tired. "Oh, it's you!" she said, attempting a smile. "Come in, hello Harry, Hermione, Remus."

"Ginny's pregnant," said Ron abruptly. 

"Yes," yawned Mrs. Weasley. "But the strange thing is, she doesn't know who the father is. _Her_ father had a fit. You know how hard it is for him."

"Let me see her," commanded Ron.

"She's _asleep_, Ron," replied Mrs. Weasley. "Honestly, at this time of night. You can talk to her in the morning. How did the match go?"

"We won," said Harry, keen to get away from the subject. 

"I know," smiled Mrs. Weasley. "Heard it on the WWN. Good game?"

Harry nodded.

"Oh, good. Come in, it's getting cold."

They filed in silently and sat down. "Now I'm going back to bed," said Mrs. Weasley. "Sleep in your old rooms as normal. Remus, you'll have to sleep on the settee. Sorry." She yawned again and set off upstairs. Remus murmured "Good night," and went into the lounge. Everyone else sat down around the kitchen table.

"Why are you all looking at me?" asked Harry. "I don't know anything."

"Are you sure Harry?" said George, coming forward to pretend to take his temperature. "Didn't accidentally Memory Charm yourself as well?" Hermione and Ron glared at him. 

"I'm going to bed too," said Harry after five minutes of silence. "Coming, Ron?"

Ron nodded and they stood up. Ron's old room, where Harry slept on his visits to the Burrow, was at the top of house. They walked upstairs slowly without saying a word, Hermione, Fred and George behind them.

Harry awoke at five o'clock the next morning feeling hot and sweaty. He'd just had a dream in which Voldemort had come back to gain his revenge and cast curse after curse on a helpless Harry. He went downstairs to find Ginny, a red-haired, freckly, seventeen-year old, already in the kitchen.

"Hi, Harry," she said. 

"Hi," said Harry, adjusting his glasses. 

"You look different," said Ginny, smiling.

"Yeah," said Harry sitting down and taking the box of Uncle Kelmius' Krispy Korn. "How are you?"

Ginny put her cup of coffee down. "Fine."

"What about – you know …"

"The baby? Oh, he's doing brilliantly, that's what they said at St. Mungo's. He's twelve weeks old now."

Twelve weeks ago, Harry thought, the world was in terror as Lord Voldemort killed wizard after wizard, witch after witch, Muggle after Muggle. Was it really only three months? "He?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Well, the Healers think so. I'm confused."

"Do you really not know – who the father is?"

Ginny shook her head. "No. Not a clue. Oh, Harry!" She put her arms around him and her patted her lovingly on the back. "It's OK."

They heard footsteps coming downstairs. "Get off me," said Harry. The last thing he needed was for Ron to see him hugging Ginny.

Harry left for Saddle Cottage after lunch. He didn't know what to do – it was another seven weeks before he had to go to Andros. He bought a copy of the _Daily Prophet _from the Muggle in the newsagents' at Godric's Hollow. She also sold various Muggle newspapers including the _Times_ and the _Sun_ and was the sister of a witch, although Harry couldn't have met anyone more different from Aunt Petunia.

He turned first to the back page. A large picture of Oliver covered about half of the lead article, under which the headline '_Debutant Wood Sees England to Semis_' was written in large bold letters. There was also a section on the British Swivenhodge Open Championship and something about the Quidditch League – Chudley Cannons had lost to Pride of Portree, although they blamed it on having one of their players at the World Cup, whilst the Scottish team, a few of whose players also played for the Prides, had already been knocked out by Japan in the second round. The article didn't mention that Mark Pugh played for Portree, although a few months ago his five million Galleon transfer from the Lubbock Lapwings had been big news. 

Harry turned to the front. '_Weasley Agrees Deal with French Minister Ennuyeux Over Trade_' read the headline. He turned the page and a small article near the bottom caught his eye:

_"I WANT TO KILL HARRY POTTER"_

_Wizard Thomas Millstew of Berwick, Northumbria, has been sending threatening messages to the Ministry of Magic recently. Mr. Millstew has been pressurizing the Ministry to lift his twelve-month broomstick-flying ban, which he received after being seen by no less than twenty-one Muggles in June, or let him kill Harry Potter. He said in his letters: "Potter is a freak who should be put down immediately. I believe I am the man to do it." The Ministry are considering giving Millstew a term in Azkaban, but at present he is avoiding capture, but Harry Potter, who has enrolled at Andros Auror Training College, should be careful until this villain is captured._


	10. The Vampire

_Chapter 10: The Vampire_

Harry didn't hear anything more about Thomas Millstew for another month. In fact, he enjoyed a relaxing two-week break at Blackpool, six days of which were spend watching Holyhead Harpies playing Puddlemere United – Quidditch matches were not played locally. Wood gave another outstanding performance– United won 890-360. France had knocked England out of the World Cup after the selection committee decided to play the usual Keeper over Wood. However, France had lost to New Zealand in the final by a six hundred-goal margin because Parry had injured their Keeper with a well-hit Bludger in the England game.

Harry was drinking Firewhisky in the pub at Godric's Hollow, the Lion and the Phoenix, when he was approached by what he thought was a strange-looking woman. She had long black hair, a pale face and was wearing a red dress. 

"Morning," said Harry.

"Good morning," replied the woman. "Is it all right if I – sssuck your blood?"

"I'd rather you didn't," said Harry.

"But, pleassse," said the woman in a hiss like a snake. "I am getting hungry, the Minisstry is not good to – my kind."

"Vampires?" asked Harry. If she wanted to drink his blood, why didn't she just bite him?

"Yesss. Pleassse," she begged.

"There's some blood-flavoured lollipops available at the bar," said Harry.

"Oh, Harry Potter iss ssso delightful," hissed the vampiress. "Much better than Thomass."

"Thomas?" inquired Harry, without asking how she knew his name. 

"Yesss. Thomass Millssstew. My masster. He sssent me to," she dropped her voice, "kill you."

"Oh," said Harry. "I'm quite unpopular really."

"I cannot sssee why anybody could not like you, Harry," she said. 

Harry had the strange idea that having a vampire fall in love with you was not a good idea. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Kellsssheee," spat the vampire. "You can call me Kelly."

"Er, OK," replied Harry. "Kelly," he added as an afterthought.

"Can you pleassse get me a lollipop?" asked Kelly. "Ass I have ssaid, I am hungry."

Harry went to get the lollipop; he had decided that it was better that having all his blood sucked out. He returned five minutes later with the foul-smelling red confection and handed it to Kelly.

"Thank you," she hissed.       

Who was this Thomas Millstew? Harry thought as he lay in bed that night. Why did he want to kill him so much? Was it really just because he thought he was an attention-seeking brat? But everyone had thought that three years ago, and then it was only Voldemort and his Death Eaters trying to kill him. Had Millstew been a Death Eater? Harry didn't think so; he seemed to be acting of his own accord. But why?

Kelly had been unable to answer these questions. Millstew had sent her to kill Harry in return for letting her drink the young man's blood, but he handed told her anything. It seemed he was too cowardly to stay for long in the same room with a hungry vampire. Harry had given her the spare bedroom at Saddle Cottage, which was, she told him, a fantastic improvement on the small cave where she normally resided. She had very few belongings apart from her clothes and no money at all.

Kelly came down to eat the next morning while Harry was making his breakfast. He'd managed to get a large tank of blood from the butcher in the village and he gave it to her.  Her face lit up and she hissed her thanks: "Harry iss ssso kind!"

"It's a pleasure," said Harry, trying not to hold his nose – the blood stank of death. Kelly had poured some into a cup and was drinking it down speedily with loud slurps. Some was splattering over the floor and Neddy was rushing backwards and forwards to mop it up. 

"What do you want to do today?" asked Kelly.

"Oh, I don't know," replied Harry. "Sit around, go to the pub –"

"Sssee your friendsss?" interrupted Kelly.

"Why not?" Harry shrugged.

"I will take your too sssee mine."

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to spend the day with a number of vampires, but he agreed. "OK."

Harry and Kelly Flooed straight to the S.P.E.W. Shop. Kelly had never used Floo powder before and Harry thought it wise to go first to warn Ron and Hermione.

"You're bringing a vampire?" shouted Ron.

"Harry, I'm not sure if this is a good idea," said Hermione.

"I know," said Harry, "but she hasn't bitten me at all and she's really poor – like house-elves," he added as an afterthought.

Kelly fell out of the fireplace with a crash and groaned. Harry helped her to her feet.

"H-h-hello," said Hermione nervously.

"Yeah, good morning," said Ron. 

"Hello," replied Kelly. "What iss your namesss?"

"Are," said Hermione automatically. "What are our names? I'm Hermione Granger."

"Call me Ron," said Ron.

"Yesss," hissed Kelly. "Ron and Her-mi-oh-nee. Interessting namesss. I'm Kellsssheee – Kelly."

"Fine," said Ron in a falsely bright voice. "Would you like a drink?"

"Ron!" warned Hermione through gritted teeth.

"Yesss," replied Kelly. "I would like ssome water – my mouth doesss get bunged up with all the blood."

Ron left quickly into the back room to get some water.

"What iss thisss place?" asked Kelly.

"The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," said Hermione proudly. "We help look after house elves," she explained.

"I would donate," said Kelly. "But I don't have any money."

"I'll put in a Galleon for you," said Harry, and drew a gold coin out of his pocket. He still hadn't got a holiday job, and was wondering if he'd ever make any money.  

They stayed at Ron and Hermione's till after lunch, when they left to see Kelly's friends. "They can be very ssselfisssh," she warned. "Ssso be careful."

Kelly's friends appeared to live in a small stone cottage that was losing its roof. Kelly knocked quietly on the door, which shook slightly then walked in. "_Ssssheekall!_" she greeted, in what was unmistakably Vampirish.

There were about five other vampires inside the cottage, three male and two female, and they all greeted Kelly in similar hissing voices. "_An kaisss iss dir?_" asked the oldest looking vampire, who was wearing a tatty black cloak, pointing at Harry.

"Harry Potter," replied Kelly. "_Kee iss tantre shut!_"

"Harry Potter! Harry Potter!" chorused the vampires, but in a strange accent: "_Harvey Votter! Harvey Votter!_"

"Er – hello," said Harry. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"_Sssheen_," replied the vampires, shaking their heads, but the oldest vampire spoke over them: "Yesss. There iss something you can do for usss. You have a wand?"

"Yes," said Harry, wondering what was coming next.

"Then can you protect us from our enemiesss?" asked the leader. "Becaussse if you can, we would pay you well."

"How much?" asked Harry.

"Oh, about ten Galleons an hour. We lose thousands when we are not protected."

Ten Galleons an hour! That was a lot of gold. "Who are your enemies?" asked Harry.

"The Nifflersss," hissed the leader. "We cannot do anything to ssstop them!"  

Harry spent the rest of the day protecting the vampire's gold from the hoards of Nifflers that kept coming to try and take it. Apparently, the three thousand Galleons were all that remained from a one million Galleon fortune that the vampire princes of the 1800s and before had owned. The vampire leader, Telkarr, would also had been a prince had the ministry of Magic not forbidden it. Instead he and his family, some of the last remaining vampires in Britain, had to live here in this small cottage. Kelly began to teach Harry Vampirish. By the end of the day he could count to one hundred, say 'hello' and goodbye', tell people who he was and where he came from, and he knew the words for 'Niffler', 'house', 'grass', 'vampire', 'wizard', 'good', 'evil' and 'Ministry of Magic'. 

"You know what, Harry?" asked Kelly as the sun began to set.

"What?" inquired Harry.

"You are the nicest human I have ever met." She kissed him, and Harry felt sharp fangs pierce his lips.


	11. New Friends

_Chapter 11: New Friends_

Harry opened his eyes. He was lying in a comfortable bed with neatly pressed white sheets. "Where am I?" he mumbled.

"Dai Llewellyn Ward, St. Mungo's Hospital," said a voice. Harry turned his head around. A young wizard in lime-green robes stood to his right, a wand and a bone crossed on his front – a Healer. 

"Are you feeling all right, Mr. Potter?" asked the wizard.

"Yeah," said Harry, but it was accompanied by a whistling noise he wasn't trying to make. His lower lip was hurting. Harry felt his with his fingers – there were two holes underneath it that went right through the flesh. 

"Very good if you want your lip pierced," said the Healer as Harry sat up. 

"I don't," replied Harry. He was wearing a long blue gown, he noticed.

"Then it should grow back in time. You've got a couple of visitors – shall I let them in?"

Harry nodded and the Healer went to the door.

There were two visitors – Kelly and Ron. The vampire ran straight up to Harry. "You're OK!" she exclaimed loudly, making the man in the next bed jump. "I'm really sssorry Harry, I forgot!"

"Hi, Harry," said Ron.

"Hello," said Harry. "How long have I been here?"

"I bit you yessterday," said Kelly remorsefully. "It'ss about lunchtime."

"OK," said Harry. "I'll ask the Healer if I can get up."

The Healer gave Harry a roll of bandages and instructed him to dress his wound daily. Then he let him leave the hospital. Harry ate in the Leaky Cauldron, which was harder than usual because his chewed-up food kept threatening to fall out of the holes in his mouth, and then went back to the vampires' cottage to protect it from the Nifflers. Two hundred Galleons had been stolen while he was gone, but he went to the Nifflers' den and managed to get them back. The vampires were jubilant.

Harry carried on working for them for the next two weeks. He made about one hundred Galleons that, he judged, would keep him going for quite a long time. After some gruelling research, he managed to erect a magical anti-Niffler barrier around the entire cottage.

He could now speak well enough in Vampirish to be understood by most vampires. They had even taught him a couple of their swearwords. Vampires, Kelly told him, had had their own language since prehistoric times, when they had been much greater in number, but although there were now much fewer of them they still spoke it and held pride in it, as it was one of the few things that wizards had not taken away.     

"_Sssinner_," he said as he left the hut for the last time to go to Andros, at half-past two on October 1st. "Goodbye, Kelly! Goodbye, everyone!" Then he Apparated.

Harry was the first person to arrive at the entrance to the Ministry of Magic and he decided to wait for some more people to turn up. The letter hadn't told him to go into the Ministry, so he presumed he had to wait outside. He leant against the telephone box. He'd have been worried of being arrested by a Muggle policeman for 'suspicious behaviour' had the surrounding area not looked as if it hadn't seen a policeman for years. At five to three, still nobody had arrived. Harry was beginning to panic. They had just five minutes to get here. What if he was in the wrong place? Surely they'd want to get here early like he did, just in case.

CRACK! A woman materialised in front of Harry. She had long ginger hair and was wearing dark blue robes. "Are you coming to Andros?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," said the woman, brushing herself down – her Apparition had covered her in dust. She looked about twenty years old. She extended a hand. "Lizzy Pullman."     

Harry shook. "Harry Potter."

Lizzy Pullman gaped at him. "Wow! I'm sure you'll be much better than me! I took a few gap years to gain some experience before coming here. I remember in the Triwizard Tournament in my seventh-year, you were brilliant! You look a lot different now from then. Cooler, you could say."

"What house were you in?" asked Harry. 

"Gryffindor," said Lizzy. "Like you. You wouldn't have noticed me. I wasn't even a prefect, even though I was one of the top students in the year. I was no good at Quidditch like you."

Harry smiled, and opened his mouth to say "Thanks," when there was another loud CRACK and a wizard with short hair and an earring appeared behind him.

"Hi," he said. His voice seemed slightly Germanic. "You are der Andros students, ja?"

"Ja," replied Harry, and smiled. "Harry Potter. You?"

The wizard's face lit up. "I know you! You get your hair potions from mein Vater." 

"Herr O'Hare?" asked Harry. "Are you his son?"

"Ja. I vent to Durmstrang. But I am a British citizen. Mein Name ist Rudolf. Rudolf O'Hare. Pleased to meet you."

"And you," said Harry. He checked his watch. One minute to three. Where was Ron?

"My friend Hannah's meant to be coming," said Lizzy. "I've no idea where she is."

"Same with me," said Harry. "Ron Weasley's not here."

"Aren't I?" said a voice. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around. Ron was behind him, smiling. "Afternoon, Harry."

A distant clock struck three. An elderly man with a grey beard and a bald patch, wearing robes dotted with stars, stepped out of the telephone box. The four new students turned to look at him. "Good afternoon," wheezed the wizard. "I am Professor Confessus, the Principal at Andros Auror Training College. We will get to the college by car. I trust you are all here?"

A short, slim teenage girl with long black hair came running up the road, dragging a large bag. "Hi, Lizzy," she breathed. "Erm, sorry I'm late." 

The wizard shook his head. "Let's hope you're on time for your lessons." He smiled and gestured to a green coloured car. "Please step this way." 


	12. Andros

_Chapter 12: Andros_

The car journey took about two hours. All the students fitted easily into the car, which had two front passenger seats. The girls, Lizzy and her friend Hannah Brittain, in the front, and the boys in the back. "How are the other students getting to the college?" asked Ron. "The older ones?"

"They come in other cars," said Professor Confessus. "Two of our other teachers will collect them at half-three and four o'clock."

Harry and Ron discussed Quidditch and music with Rudolf, who was a fan of heavy metal and had his own band. "Ve play a lot of songs," he told them. "And ve vrite our own." 

"I only care about music," said Ron. "If it's one of the Chudley Cannons songs." He began to sing loudly and out of tune until Professor Confessus told him to "Please be quiet, or I'll set the budgie on you." 

They then started to trade Chocolate Frog cards, Rudolf had a lot in German and Harry and Ron were eager to get a look at them. Hannah gave them a look that made them think that she thought they were being babyish. "Maybe we ought to stop?" said Ron in a low voice. "I mean, we're eighteen now."

"Look, Dumbledore!" exclaimed Rudolf. "I haven't got von of him in English yet."

Harry put his hand inside his robes and drew out the card that Ron had given him at the end of last year – himself. He scanned down to the bottom – "_… his face disfigured by a lightning-bolt shaped scar._" He traced the scar with his fingers. It hadn't hurt at all since he'd destroyed Voldemort, when the link that had been forged between them had hurt so much that he nearly died with the pain. In fact, if Dumbledore hadn't recovered from a deep charmed sleep that he had suffered since the end of Harry's sixth year and arrived back at Hogwarts just in time to save Harry, the young man would have died along with his enemy.

"You okay, Harry?" asked Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'm fine." 

The car drove through two wrought-iron gates onto a gravel drive. They were in the countryside of the Midlands and had arrived at the college. A marble statue of a tall ancient Greek stood on a fountain in front of a modern-looking one-storey building. The car stopped with a screech and the doors magically flew open. The five students got out and removed their luggage from the boot. "Ready?" said Professor Confessus. "Good. Now, if you'd just like to follow me – Mr. Potter, please don't do that to your friend's broomstick. I'd like you to go into the entrance hall and along the corridor to your right. Your dormitories are the third room along for the ladies and the sixth for the men. Please feel free to explore the gardens. Stay out of the teachers' residence block on the right there and don't go into the spell-casting paddock behind the high fence or the offices off the entrance hall. The bell will call you all to dinner at six o'clock; the dining hall is next to the gymnasium off the entrance hall. Off you go."  

They dragged their trunks into the entrance hall, an L-shaped room lined with school photographs and trophies. "This is hard work," said Ron, his hands tightening around his trunk.

"Use your wand, then!" said Hannah, her trunk floating effortlessly behind her.

"Oh, yeah," said Ron. "Sorry." He flicked his wand and the trunk flew up, Harry and Rudolf did the same. They turned right into a corridor as instructed, it was painted blue and windows looked out onto the gardens. As instructed, Lizzy and Hannah entered the third room on the left and Harry, Ron and Rudolf carried onto the end where their dormitory was. Rudolf pushed opened the door and they looked into their dormitory for the first time.

It was a small room, with three small wooden beds crammed into in. There was a small table beside each one and a door at the back led into a shower room. A wizarding wireless and a magical typewriter sat on a desk beside the window.

"This is my bed," said Harry, sitting on the one nearest to it. Sheets were folded neatly on top of it. Rudolf and Ron scuffled for the bed opposite and Ron, the taller of the two, won. 

Rudolf sat down resignedly on the other bed. "Shall ve unpack?"

"We might as well," replied Harry. The three of them opened their trunks and began taking out the multitude of books and equipment. Rudolf's looked somewhat better used. "Ve had some of dis stuff at Durmstrang," he explained.

Unpacking, making the beds and arranging their equipment took about a quarter of an hour. Neither of the three young men did it particularly tidily. "Shall ve go and look around now?" asked Rudolf when they had finished. 

"All right," agreed Harry and Ron together.

The gardens were large, spacious and grassy and surrounded by a tall hedge. The main building was L-shaped like the hall, with a paddock for practising spells behind it. The paddock was surround on three sides by a tall fence of criss-crossed wires which glowed blue slightly; the fourth side was about half of the back wall, protected by metal plating. The six classrooms were behind the dormitories and shower rooms in the large East Wing. Off the Entrance Hall were changing rooms and offices. Behind them, in the east wing were the kitchens, a small common room, a gymnasium and the dining hall. 

"Shall we see what's behind the paddock?" asked Harry. "I saw something there."

They walked out of the gate and into a large field. A small pavilion sat on one side and there was a stable on the other.

"It's a Quidditch pitch," said Ron. "But the goals aren't up."

"Dey're ofer der," gestured Rudolf, pointing a six long poles with hoops on the ends lying at the other side of the oval pitch. "Look – a running track!" 

Sure enough, around the edges of the pitch was an eight-laned athletics track. "And Swifenhodge courts, and Battemarie, and – iss that a Quodpot pitch? I've nefer played it."

"This is a brilliant sports complex," said Ron. "It's nearly as good as the one at Exeter, and that's one of the best in the world. We should go there sometime, Harry."

"I vunder vot's in der stables," said Rudolf. "Shall ve go and see?"

They walked over to the handsome thatched redbrick stables to find Hannah and Lizzy already there, stroking and petting two dozen handsome winged horses in a huge variety of colours and breeds.

"Hi," said Lizzy to the wizards, whilst Hannah looked at them haughtily. "Look at the horses. They're beautiful."

They were indeed spectacular beasts, which flowing manes and tails and huge, feathered wings folded back gracefully. "I vunder if ve get to ride them?" asked Rudolf. 

"Probably," said Ron. "Aurors need to be able to use all sorts of transport."

"It's five to six," Harry pointed out. "We'd better be going."

"Oh," said Hannah. "Do we have to?"

"We'd better," replied Ron. "You don't want to be late a second time."

Hannah looked at him, annoyed, but walked with the other trainee Aurors back to the dining hall.   


	13. College Food, Consoles and Crashes

_Chapter 13: College Food, Consoles and Crashes_

The five arrived at the hall just as the bell rang. There were four small tables, each with seats for six. The teachers sat at one and a couple of others were gradually filling up with students from the two other years. A hatch on one wall let into the kitchen.

"I think we sit here," said Lizzy, pointing to the empty table. They sat down around it. Professor Confessus stood up and smiled around at the students, who were all aged between eighteen and twenty-five, with a single exception – one wizard looked like he was in his late thirties. There were five other teachers at the staff table – two wizards and three witches. Harry recognised two of them: Kingsley Shacklebolt, a tall, black, bald Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and Madam Hooch, the Hogwarts Flying mistress.

"What's she doing here?" he hissed to Ron.

"Dunno," replied his friend.

"Welcome," said Professor Confessus. "Welcome back, to Andros Auror Training College. Before we begin our first meal together, I think we should become acquainted." He picked up a roll of parchment from the table. "Ready? So that we all get to know each other, when I call out your name please stand up. I'll start with our newest students. Hannah Brittain?"

Hannah stood up. There was a smattering of polite applause.

"Rudolf O'Hare?"

Rudolf stood up, and waved. 

"Harry Potter?"

Harry stood up nervously; he could hear mutterings and whisperings throughout the hall. It was almost exactly the same as seven years ago on his first day at Hogwarts, except with fewer people. He obediently brushed back his hair to show his scar.

"Elizabeth Pullman? Ronald Weasley? Welcome. Now for our older students – Lyra Macmillan?" 

"It's Ernie's sister," whispered Ron. Ernie Macmillan had been the Hufflepuff prefect in Harry's year.

"George Ollerton?" A sporty looking young man stood up. "Tessa Robinson? Maximillian Shimpling? And the third year – Pegasus Equiner? Samuel Mesalla?" The tall wizard that stood up was covered in cuts and bruises – he looked like an active sort of person. "Alexandra Ramsbottom? James Taylor? Good, good. All here, I see. Now, unfortunately a student has left us this year, so the second-year will be continuing without Tony Pratchett. Now, I think we'd better introduce the new students to the teachers – firstly, myself, Professor Confessus, here we have Professor Potts, Professor Gabriel, Professor Shacklebolt and our two part time teachers, Madams Hooch and Masters. Thank you. All that remains to be said is to tell our new students to report to Room 3 tomorrow at nine o'clock. Eat." He clapped his hands and four house-elves came in carrying plates of food. 

"Good thing Hermione's not here," whispered Ron as a house-elf ladled food onto his plate. Harry grinned.

It took them over an hour to eat. The food was not as good as Hogwarts', but filling none the less. After eating they went along the corridor to the common room. Harry slumped down in a chair next to Ron who was busy feeding Pig – the owl had just arrived down the chimney. Hedwig was outside, hunting. She and Pig would sleep in the owlery, a shed near the spell practice paddock. 

"GO AWAY!" shouted Ron to Pig, who was refusing to leave. "Want to play chess?" he asked Harry. Wizard's chess was different from Muggle chess because the pieces were not inanimate, and shouted advice that wasn't always that helpful. "OK," said Harry. 

The game kept them occupied for another one and a half hours. Harry and Ron both won a game. After many years, Harry was finally getting quite good. This might have been because Ron's pieces were so old now that the magic was wearing off and they didn't always behave, however, they were often falling asleep or trying to take their own pieces. 

"Still playing?" asked Rudolf, coming over. 

"No," said Ron. "Harry just beat me."

"Do you vant a go on the Tri-X?" asked Rudolf. "No-one else iss using it."

"They've got a Tri-X?" said Ron. "Cool!"

"What's a Tri-X?" asked Harry. 

"It's a thing for playing games on," said Ron. "I've always wanted one."

"Oh!" said Harry. "Like a PlayStation!"

"A bit, but about a hundred times better. The games are really 3D."

"Let's go and look at it," said Rudolf. "It's ofer here." 

Harry and Ron followed to a small desk where a glass pyramid sat connected to a magical typewriter like the one in the dormitory. They sat down around it.

"What games in?" asked Ron. 

"Nothing," answered Rudolf. "Shall ve play Broomstick Race Pro?"

"That sounds good. Put it in."

Rudolf picked up a triangular shaped cartridge and put it into a slot in the bottom of the pyramid. It slid into the centre of the base. Ron pressed the spacebar on the typewriter and the triangle flickered into life.

"TRI-X MAGICAL GAMES," flashed up three-dimensional writing in the middle of the glass box. "VIRTUWORLD PRESENTS – BROOMSTICK RACE PRO!"

Music blared out around Harry, submerging him in the game although it wasn't actually very good.

"Press space," read out Rudolf. "Go on."

Ron tapped the key again and a menu flashed up. "CHOOSE TRACK." He chose. "CHOOSE RACER AND BROOMSTICK." He selected. "BEGIN RACE."

Ron pressed the spacebar again and the game launched into life. A tiny 3D broomstick and rider were navigating their way around a track that seemed to extend beyond the Tri-X and even through the wall behind. Harry was transfixed as he watched Ron pilot the broomstick. It was like he was actually riding it. Despite actually being 3D, the graphics weren't very good, but it still seemed like an amazing game. It was a miniature world inside that glass box. If this could be combined with the best Muggle games it would sell a billion copies. 

"3rd," said Ron. "Want a go, Harry?"

"OK," said Harry. He sat down in the central seat and chose his track and racer. The race began. It was harder that it looked. Harry crashed twice in the first minute. "Look where you're going," said Ron. "You're in last place."

"I AM looking where I'm going," shouted Harry. He turned back to the Tri-X. He was veering off course towards solid rock – CRASH! The sound erupted around him and everything went black.


	14. Auror Training Begins

_Chapter 14: Auror Training Begins _

Harry sat up. He was lying in bed. His glasses were on a table beside him. He put them on. "Where am I?" he asked, to no one in particular.

"You're at Andros," said a voice. "Ron iss in the showver."

"What's the time?" asked Harry.

"Half past sefen," replied Rudolf, who was listening to the wireless. "How are you? You collapsed avter you crashed the broom."

"I'm OK, I think," said Harry. "It seemed so – real."

"Yes, they model it on real life."

"Oh," said Harry. "Yeah, that would be why –"

He stopped. He'd just heard something on the wireless. "Thomas Millstew has not been seen for several days," it crackled. "It is believed that he is making his way towards Andros Auror Training College, Staffordshire, where Harry Potter is currently residing. Any sightings of Millstew should be reported immediately to the Ministry."

Rudolf looked at Harry. "Vot vos that about?" he asked.

Harry turned off the wireless. "I dunno. This guy wants to kill me for no reason." He felt the holes under his lip, which were beginning to heal. "He's already tried once."

Harry washed and got into clean robes, then went to the dining hall for breakfast at eight o'clock. He filled his bowl with cornflakes and took a pot of tea, bacon and eggs from the house-elf at the hatch. It took him only about fifteen minutes to eat. When he had finished he went and sat in the common room, trying to keep as far as possible from the older students playing on the Tri-X. He had brought _Create Your Own Magic _with him and was beginning to learn the basics about making his own spells. 

"Want to play?" asked the sporty-looking second-year student Harry recognised as George Ollerton. "We've got a new game."

Harry wanted to say no, but felt it would be considered rude, so he got up resignedly and walked over to the Tri-X. Alex Ramsbottom and Pegasus Equiner were sitting around it whilst Max Shimpling played the game. Harry and George sat down. The hero was a red-robed wizard who reminded Harry of Professor Confessus. "What's the game?" he whispered, trying not to disturb Max who was trying to navigate his way across a swamp.

"Melkius Karrelus," replied George. "A sort of wizarding James Bond really. I'm Muggle-born," he explained.

Harry nodded and turned to the Tri-X. Melkius Karrelus appeared to be in some sort of duel with another wizard. It looked very realistic. "It's good," he said.

"Yeah," said George. "Better than _Jimmy Hatchett_. You get turned into a Muggle and have to survive in the Muggle world. It's a bit boring really."

Mr. Weasley would love it, thought Harry. "Can I play?" he said aloud.

"Anytime," replied Max, whose computer game figure had just been blasted by a powerful spell and collapsed on the floor. "Anyone can play whenever they like."

Harry played the game for the next half hour. He was quite good at it – it was very similar to real life. He presumed that at the end of his Auror training he'd be just like Melkius Karrelus. He had to save the game and come off at five to nine so that he could go to his first lesson.

He found Ron, Rudolf, Lizzy and Hannah already in the classroom. There were six small desks – Harry sat down in one of the two empty ones – all facing a blackboard. They talked quietly for a few minutes, then Professor Gabriel strode in.

He was a tall man with a bald head but a blond beard. He used his wand to move the empty desk to face the others, and sat down. "Good morning, new students," he said. His voice was not as deep as Kingley's but it was close. "I am Professor Gabriel, your Year Tutor. If you have any problems, ask me and I will attempt to sort them out. Now, I hope we are all here – yes? Good. Then we'll begin.

"There are four one-and-a-half-hour periods every day at Andros, with a fifteen minute break between each one, although this is extended to an hour at lunchtime. You will study various different courses, which are detailed in the sheets in front of you." He waved his wand and the sheets appeared. "Now, at Andros we do not operate a strict timetable and you will attend whatever lessons I, you teachers and yourselves feel you need to. However, you will be expected to attend at least three lessons every day and attend each lesson at least once at week. The first period of each week will be a tutor period where you will talk with me about any matters that may have arisen. The last period will be assembly in the dining hall. You must attend at least one of these periods every week.

"At the end of each term you will sit exams, both practical and theoretical. These will give you some idea of how you are doing. At the end of each year your exams will depend on whether or not you stay on at the college. If you fail, you will be asked to leave. Very few of our students manage to complete the course and become qualified Aurors, and some drop out of their own accords.

"We operate a system of punishments and rewards here not dissimilar from those of your schools. Good work will gain you points and misbehaviour will cause you to lose them. Unlike schools, however, you are gaining points for yourself, not your house. The student with the most points will gain a reward at the end of the year. For serious misbehaviour we give detentions where you will perform certain difficult tasks. 

"I am sure you are aware that many of the items on your school list require special licences from the Ministry of Magic for their use. Therefore, if they are misused in any way you will be expelled immediately. We – will – find – out. With the exception of our part-time teachers, we are all professional Aurors. Any questions?"

Harry put up his hand. "Madam Hooch teaches Flying at Hogwarts. What does she do here?"

"She is only part-time in both establishments," replied Professor Gabriel. "She will be your Physical Trainer. Strength and fitness are very important to Aurors."

They spend the rest of the period copying down notes about lessons and deciding what they should take for the rest of the week. 

"Your first lesson will be Spell Creation," said Professor Gabriel. "In the paddock with myself. Please follow me."     

             


	15. Harry's Charm

My excellent updating skills, Aurelle? When did I last put up a chapter – three weeks ago? What you said in your review was exactly what I was thinking. I haven't really been pleased with a chapter since Chapter 8. That's why I stopped writing. I wasn't writing very well. Hopefully I've regained some of my writing skills. So, _chapitre quinze _… (sorry, I feel French)

_Chapter 15: Harry's Charm_

They followed Professor Gabriel along the corridor, outside and to the spell-casting paddock. It was about a hundred yards long and fifty yards wide. Professor Gabriel took out his wand and tapped the door. "Nobody," he told them sternly, "and I mean NOBODY, is to enter the paddock without permission. It is the only place you can practise certain dangerous spells without the risk of demolishing the building. I would advise you to wear sports robes in here, because they give you the maximum movement possible without wearing," he coughed, "Muggle clothes." 

Harry checked to see what he and the others were wearing. He was dressed in bright red England Quidditch robes. Ron was wearing his Chudley Cannons strip; Rudolf was wearing what looked like the Heidelberg Harriers' kit, red with white stripes down the sides and a picture of a large bird on the chest; and Lizzy was wearing plain yellow robes. Hannah, however, was wearing what looked like some kind of fashionable blue dress. "Shall I get changed?" she asked Professor Gabriel. 

"I think so," said the Auror. "Quickly."

Hannah ran off back into the building and the others entered the paddock. Professor Gabriel went and stood in the centre and the students gathered around. "Best wait for Miss Brittain," murmured the teacher. Hannah ran out looking flustered a few minutes later, now wearing the red and green robes of the Caerphilly Catapults. Professor Gabriel frowned at her. "You're ready now, I hope," he said. "Now, today we're going to start to produce our own spells. Has anybody here done this before?"

There was a murmur of "no".

"I should hope not," replied Professor Gabriel. "The process is strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic. It can be, however, important to an Auror to be able to create his own spells. This can be very dangerous, so you must not try it outside the spell paddock without my own supervision."

Harry thought of Luna Lovegood's mother – killed by her own experiment spell when her daughter was still below Hogwarts school age.  

"I hope that is clear," continued Professor Gabriel, surveying the students. "Now today our lesson will be practical, which is of course why we are outside. Many of our lessons will be theoretical in my classroom, but I thought it a good idea to start you off out here. Any questions?"

The class remained silent.

"OK. Let's go on. I trust many of you have read _Create Your Own Magic_, or at least part of it, and will know some of the basics of spell-creation. Can anyone give me a brief description of what a spell is?"

Everyone remained silent for a few seconds, waiting to see who would volunteer. Then Harry put his hand up.

"Mr. Potter?"

"It is a – erm," replied Harry, "a concentration of the force known as magic."

"Good," said Professor Gabriel. "Can you tell me a bit more?"

Harry thought for a second, remembering what he had read, then said, "Wizards generally use wands to concentrate magic into spells and, er, they tend to give off heat and light as well as the desired effect of the user."

"And how does a wizard do this?"

Before Harry could answer, Rudolf replied, "Vith a spell vord and vand action."

"Very good, O'Hare," praised Professor Gabriel. "Yes, the wizard will use a spell word and a wand action to help him concentrate on casting the spell. He will come to associate the incantation and movement with that particular spell and so he can use it when he wishes to. But the important thing about a spell is the _intent_ of the user, and the action and incantation are merely things to help him to do it more effectively. Many of you can probably do simpler spells without using the spell word. Understood?"

The five pupils nodded, and Professor Gabriel continued.

"I hope you all have wands." He smiled.  "They are very important in the casting of spells. In my pocket I have a second-hand wand that I no longer need. If I take it out we can look at and study its structure." He drew a battered wooden rod out of his pocket. "What is the outside of the wand made from?" he asked.

This time Lizzy answered. "Wood," she said. "The caster needs to be able to get his or her magical intent through the wood to the core."

"Very good," replied Professor Gabriel. "Yes. The core, a powerful magical substance, allows the wizard to cast the spell. If I remove the top of this wand with my own, we can take out the core, which is in this case a unicorn hair. The intent of the wizard travels through the wood to the core, which then converts it into magical force which is shot out of one end of the wand, where the wood is generally thinner, often emitting waste heat, sound and light in the process. Different wizards need different types of wood, as some woods will not allow certain intentions through very well, and a different core to convert their feelings into the correct magic. All this is very important in creating your own spell, and we will now begin."

The trainee Aurors all looked eagerly at their teacher, who smiled back at them. "Wands out and line up against the wall." Everyone drew their wands and ran back to the metal-plated wall of the college. Professor Gabriel followed.

"Now we know that we need an incantation, or spell word, and a wand action to help us concentrate our intent. We must bear in mind that different people will perform the spell differently, depending on their wands. But first, we must decide what we want to do. Choose something simple, please."

Harry thought. What spell would he like to have? Maybe he could Conjure something? No, he knew how to do that. He looked over at Ron, who was also thinking hard in his Cannons strip. That was it! He could make a spell that projected a heavy iron ball at another. 

"Have you all chosen?" asked Professor Gabriel. "Good. Now we need an incantation. Spell words are generally Latin, so that they are not accidentally used in everyday life, but now we may as well use any word that sounds good, preferably one related to the spell. Then choose a wand action, bearing in mind that you don't want lots of pretty flicks for a murderous jinx, not that any of you would be doing one."

A spell word. Harry thought. Maybe _catapultus_. It was stupid, but it didn't matter. And an action. A quick stab would be good. Harry practised one. It seemed to work. He looked expectantly at Professor Gabriel. He wanted to try out his new spell.

"Everyone ready?" asked the Auror a few minutes later. "Good. I'll call you up one by one, and you can try your spell. Aim it at the target board over there if you need to. Firstly, Mr. O'Hare?"

Rudolf stepped forward and grinned apologetically. "_Raindown_!" he yelled, giving his wand a quick twist. Nothing happened. "I vos trying to make it rain," he explained to Professor Gabriel.  

"May I suggest a slightly slower movement," said the teacher. "Miss Brittain, next!"

Hannah came forward. "_Jesuisbeau_!" she yelled, swirling her wand over her head. There was a flash of yellow light, a crack and she was standing with her face dripping with what looked like wax."

"Good incantation, from French I see, and movement, but it lacked the intent and I don't think it had the desired effect. Maybe you ought to go to the first aid room. Mr. Weasley, you next."

Hannah ran back inside and Ron stepped forward. He paused for a few seconds then yelled, "_BLAST_!" There was a noise like thunder and a streak of red light sped from his outstretched wand towards the target board, but otherwise nothing happened.

"Ah," said Professor Gabriel. "Maybe you could improve your incantation. And you need to think about a bit more that light and sound for anything to happen. Miss Pullman?"

Lizzy walked forwards. "_Nicewaftus_," she said calmly, holding her wand straight in the air. A cloud of black smoke arose form it and surrounded her, emitting a smell like rotten eggs. She began to choke and Professor Gabriel had to clear the smoke himself. "It was meant to make a _nice_ smell," coughed Lizzy. 

"Well, once again you didn't quite have the intent," said the teacher. "But a bit more work and it could be used very effectively against your enemies. Mr. Potter?"

Harry steeped forwards. He couldn't imagine what would happen if _his_ spell backfired. He lifted his wand, stabbed and shouted "_Catapultus_!" There was a noise like a gunshot and a black ball appeared form the tip of his wand, travelling at enormous speed towards the target board where it hit the bullseye and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Professor Gabriel clapped his hands. "Charming work from you, Mr. Potter! A brilliant spell! There are a few things you could improve though…"


	16. The Author and the Assassin

_Chapter 16: The Author and the Assassin_

They spent the rest of the lesson improving their spells and when they left an hour later Harry was felling very tired – the work had been exhausting. He, Ron and Rudolf went to the dining hall for lunch, and they enjoyed a good meal of steak and chips. They then went to the common room, where Harry started the essay Professor Gabriel had set them for homework. When the bell rang he set off for his next lesson, Herbology, but was stopped by Professor Confessus. "Harry Potter?" said the elderly wizard. "You have a visitor. Please follow me to my office."

Harry followed him. Who would want to visit an eighteen-year-old trainee Auror? He pushed open the bright red door to Confessus' office to find a woman sitting at the desk. "Here he is," said Confessus. "Harry, please take a seat. Goodbye." He left the room, closing the door gently behind him. Harry sat down opposite the woman.

She had red hair and was wearing Muggle clothes: a red shirt and jeans. "Hello, Harry," she said. "Pleased to meet you."

Harry brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I hope you don't mind," he began, "but who the heck are you?"

"Sorry," said the woman. "I'm Joanne Rowling. I sent you a letter in August, remember?"

Harry thought back. "You're that Muggle who wrote a book about me, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes," said Joanne. "Have you read it?"

"It was good," replied Harry, nodding. "Very good."

"Thank you," she said. "I've published another one now, about your second year. Sorry for not telling you."

She took out a hardback book. Harry read the title: _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. On the cover was a picture of himself and Ron driving a blue Ford Anglia through the sky. Harry felt a pang of guilt. They'd crashed that car, which had belonged to Mr. Weasley when he was still a lowly Ministry of Magic worker in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. "Can I have the book?" he asked. Joanne handed it over to him and he slid it into his bag. He'd read it later. "I don't mind you publishing it," he said. "It's not like it's a number one bestseller or anything is it?"

"It is," said Joanne.

"Pardon?" asked Harry. "What did you say?"

"It is a number one bestseller," repeated Joanne. She took out a piece of paper. On it was a list of the different prizes the book had won. Harry had thought he was only famous in the wizarding world.

"At least Muggles don't think you're real," said Joanne, as if she had read his thoughts.

"I suppose so," said Harry. "You can publish the books though. I don't mind."

"Thanks," said Joanne. "Sorry, I've got to go." She stood up and picked up her bag. "Owl me if you have any questions," she called as she left.

"Bye!" shouted Harry, wondering what the purpose of that brief visit had been. He stood up after a few minutes, ready to leave as well, but Professor Confessus came in as he was going through the door. "Sit down, please," said the Auror. "I have something to tell you."

Harry sat back down. What was going on? Confessus didn't sit down, but remained by the door. Was he going to be punished, thought Harry.

"I am sorry, but you have another visitor," said Confessus. "He should be here in a few minutes. Please wait here." The elderly wizard left, and Harry waited.

The visitor entered two minutes later in the form of a tall man in flowing robes, wearing a pointed hat and with long, silver hair and beard: Albus Dumbledore. "Harry!" he greeted. "Good to see you again! It is a shame I have such bad news."

Dumbledore sat down opposite Harry and looked at him. "I have something I have to tell you."

"What is it, professor?" asked Harry.

"Someone is trying to kill you."

"I know that!" replied Harry. "Thomas Millstew. Is he mad or something?"

"You know?" asked Dumbledore. "Well, you always seem to find out everything. I just came to warn you that you are not safe. This place is guarded by Aurors, but Millstew could still catch you unawares. Sometimes every teacher is either away or in a lesson. If you are studying on your own – be alert. Use everything you learn here and that you learnt from your – your various Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. Some people want to kill you Harry. More, I suspect, than Thomas Millstew. I cannot protect you while I am at Hogwarts. You did very well when I was sleeping last year. You are an adult now. You have to make your own decisions, your own choices – not that you've ever done anything else. Just be careful."

Harry nodded. "I will. I will be careful."

"Good," said Dumbledore. "Then you'll be OK. You are a great wizard. A great wizard. Would you like a sherbet lemon?"

Harry spent the rest of the period eating sweets and discussing various matters with Dumbledore. The old wizard left five minutes before the end. Harry walked slowly out into the corridor and to his next lesson.


	17. Withersball

_Chapter 17: Withersball_

Harry was nearly swept off his feet by the amount of work he needed to do at Andros. The teachers all had very high expectations of their pupils, and it was even worse for him – he was famous as the one who defeated Voldemort. They only had to do three of the four lessons every day, but Harry liked to attend all of them in case he missed something vital. Professor Gabriel's 'very few succeed' talk had made him anxious not to drop out.

As well as Spell Creation, Professor Gabriel also taught Transfiguration. Harry was not bad at this, but he lagged behind most of the other subjects – aside from Herbology, it was definitely one of his weak points. Professor Gabriel was not quite as strict as Professor McGonagall, Harry's teacher at Hogwarts, but this didn't make things any easier. They were performing spells Harry had never dreamed possible, such as Transfiguring a small needle into a large wooden desk or changing light and fire into other things.

Professor Potts was a smiling witch with long, brown hair who taught Herbology and Potions. She couldn't have been less like Severus Snape and for an Auror she seemed very silly. She liked to perform little practical jokes on the students and seemed to be laughing loudly all the time. Harry wasn't laughing when he nearly had his hand bitten off by both a Venomous Tentacula and a Mandrake in one lesson – they were supposed to be crossbreeding them. He was pleased, however, with his concoction of a weak Truth Potion, and Professor Potts said she wouldn't be surprised if he turned out be a master of the art of potion making.

Professor Confessus taught the students Concealment and Disguise, and also Stealth and Tracking. Harry learnt a lot of things about Invisibility Cloaks he had never dreamed of, and wished he had known them when he was at Hogwarts, sneaking around after hours. He also found out how to track down wizards magically.

Harry had known Kingsley Shacklebolt since the older wizard had helped rescue him from Privet Drive four years before. Kingsley had been the chief of the search for Sirius Black, but when Harry's godfather had died and his name had been cleared, he had decided instead to teach at Andros. He was the Professor of Curses, and taught the students how to attack and defend in extremely forceful ways. It was easy work for Harry – he hadn't received 'Outstanding' in Defence Against the Dark Arts and been leader of Hogwarts' Defence Association for nothing.

Madam Masters was like a cross between Professors McGonagall and Snape. Very, very strict, she was generally fair, but if a student were silly or careless, she would become very angry with them. She taught Charms and looked after the college animals, teaching the students to do the same, although Harry thought the beasts were probably too scared of her not to obey.

The teachers all set a lot of homework, and Harry and the others had little time to do as they wished. When Harry was not working, however, he often used to play on _Melkius Karrelus_, and soon was doing better than anyone else in the college.

On Friday morning, Harry awoke to the sound of howling winds and beating rain. Ron was still asleep and Rudolf was sitting at the typewriter, doing his homework.

"You really shouldn't do that the morning it's due in," yawned Harry.

"I verk best in der mornings," replied Rudolf. "Anyvay, it alvays verked at Durmstrang."

"What results did you get in your exams?" asked Harry, climbing out of bed.

"I don't know vot the grades are at Hogvorts, but I got two of der top grade and tree of the zecond," said Rudolf, continuing to type. "Anyvay, I'd tink I should verk."

Harry got dressed, washed and had breakfast, then played on the Tri-X in the common room. Rudolf and Ron appeared at five to nine.

"I think I'll skip first lesson," said Ron. "What is it, anyway?"

"Sport, dat's vot Gabriel said," replied Rudolf. "You don't vunt to miss it."

"'Spose," replied Ron. "We'd better get going. Is it on the pitches?"

"I tink so," said Rudolf. "Let's go."

The three of them left, and arrived at the pitches just as the bell rang. Madam Hooch and Lizzy were already there, but it looked like Hannah wasn't turning up.

"Are we all ready, then?" asked Madam Hooch, and eagle-eyed witch with short, grey hair. "Then we'll begin. As I'm sure you know, being physically fit is very important to the Auror. I will lead you in fitness lessons once a week, and on Saturdays I will split any of you who wish into teams, which will then play each other in various sports. Your lessons will either be out here, or in the gym – I will tell your Year Tutor where you need to go."

The four students nodded. Madam Hooch continued.

"Now today I'm going to introduce you to a sport that you probably haven't played before. Any of you who wish can participate in the match tomorrow. Please follow me over to the stables."

She walked off at a brisk pace and the students followed. "Look at the goalpost," Lizzy whispered.

Harry, Rudolf and Ron looked up. Instead of three golden hoops, at each end of the Quidditch pitch was a rectangular goal, about the size of a soccer one, was balanced on two fifty-foot high poles. "I wonder what we're playing?" asked Ron. "Are the supplies in the stables?"

"I would think they'd be in the pavilion," replied Harry.

Why they were going to the stables soon became apparent. Five of the winged horses were saddled up and ready to be ridden. Beside them on the floor were several long rods with small baskets on the end: similar to lacrosse sticks. A small crate lay next to them.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Madam Hooch. "Mount your horses."

Harry leapt up onto the nearest horse – the smallest, a black-and-white pony – and the other three students did the same. Madam Hooch stood beside her horse, a handsome black, but did not mount. She picked up one of the sticks. "Withersball," she said as if that explained everything. "Invented by Lord Stoddard Withers a few hundred years ago as a horseback alternative to Quidditch. Very good for improving your riding skills. Let's play! " She went round, giving each of them a stick, then got onto her own horse and rode it, still on the ground and carrying the small chest, to the small circle in the centre of the Quidditch pitch. The students followed.

When they had all reached the middle of the pitch, Madam Hooch started to talk to them again. "Withersball is played five-a-side in full games: two Defence, two Attack and one Catcher. The Defence and the Attack pass the Kaffle as the Chasers and Keeper pass the Quaffle in Quidditch, to try and score and defend. A goal is worth one point. The Catcher works as a link between Defence and Attack but with one more responsibility – that of catching the Snicker. Catching the Snicker ends the chukka and gains your team fifteen points – the team with the most points after three chukkas wins the game. The Snicker is not quite as fast as the Golden Snitch and you should be able to catch it in about twenty minutes. There is nothing similar to Bludgers in Withersball, but the Kaffle moves around of its own accord if left for too long. I think we'll just play one chukka, then we'll work on your skills. Let's have Potter and Weasley against O'Hare and Pullman. Harry, Lizzy – you have the smaller horses, so you can be Attack and Catchers. Let's go!"     


	18. Saturday

_Chapter 18: Saturday_

Withersball was like nothing Harry had ever done before. His riding skills were not brilliant, and he kept dropping the Kaffle from his stick. It had to be thrown quite strongly to get it go anywhere – if a player didn't use enough force, it flew off of its own accord. As well as attacking Rudolf's goal, Harry also had to try and get the Snicker – which was not easy as Lizzy was a much better flyer. He was glad when she finally caught it and Madam Hooch called them back down to the ground. The score was 25-12 to Rudolf and Lizzy. Then they practised shooting and defending for an hour, before playing another short game which Harry and Ron won 24-6. Madam Hooch dismissed the class, telling them that anyone who wanted could play in the game the next day.

After the break, Harry went to Spell Creation, where they worked on the theory, and after that to Herbology, where Professor Potts succeeded in getting all of the students drenched from head to toe with some potion perched on top of the greenhouse door.

The final period was assembly in the dining hall. Professor Confessus gave out notices and everyone participated in a 'mind-building' exercise. Then each student reported what they had achieved that week, before the Headmaster dismissed them for an early end-of-school.

Harry slept in on Saturday morning, waking at a quarter to ten to find Rudolf and Ron changing into sports clothes.

"W-what's happening?" Harry asked.

"Ve are getting ready for Vittersball," replied Rudolf. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, of course," said Harry, nodding as he climbed out of bed.  He got into his own sports robes and then went to the pitches with his roommates. On the way they were joined by Lizzy.

"Are you playing Withersball?" she asked them. "You're all really good. Harry, have you had breakfast?"

Harry shook his head, and immediately started to feel hungry. He conjured up a chocolate bar with his wand and started to eat.

"It von't fill you," said Rudolf. "It vill disappear soon."

"I know," replied Harry. "I'll eat probably after the match."

There were exactly ten students in total: Harry, Ron, Lizzy, Rudolf, Max Shimpling, George Ollerton, Lyra Macmillan, Sam Mesalla, Pegasus Equiner and Alex Ramsbottom. Hannah and her second-year friend Tessa Robinson were watching with some of the teachers from the pavilion.

"Is everyone who's coming here?" asked Madam Hooch.

"I think so," said Pegasus Equiner. His voice was strong and sporty. "James Taylor won't be playing: he's hurt his leg."

"OK, then," said Madam Hooch. "Go and get your sticks and horses." 

Everyone jogged round the pitch to the stables. Most students seemed to have their own special horse, so Harry ended up with the pony he'd had yesterday. Her name was Pinpin, Harry had discovered. When everyone was on a horse, Pegasus came round with sticks – Harry's was longer that the rest and had a larger net. "You can be Catcher," explained the third-year.

Everyone warmed up by flying their horses around the pitch, then came back down to the centre to be sorted into teams. Pegasus and Alex Ramsbottom were chosen as captains by Madam Hooch and began to pick.

"Potter," said Pegasus first, and Harry rode beside him and his handsome palomino Abraxan stallion.

"George," called Alex, and he also rode out.

"Sam," said Pegasus. The active looking wizard trotted forwards on his horse.

"Lizzy," chose Alex with a smile.

"The German – sorry, I've forgotten your name," said Pegasus. Rudolf walked forwards and told him.

Next, Alex chose Max and Pegasus chose Tessa. Ron walked forwards towards Alex, and grinned at Harry. "Prepare to lose!"

"I don't think it's worth bothering, really," Harry replied.

The two sets of players rode into their positions on the pitch: Harry was halfway between the goal and the centre circle. At a blast on Madam Hooch's whistle, the players, horses and balls all took off into the air.

Harry could tell that Pegasus Equiner was an expert. Without even passing once to his Attack partner Sam Mesalla, he was past George Ollerton and Max Shimpling, the opponent's Attack, Lizzy, their Catcher, and Ron, one of their Defence. He looked like he was about to score past Alex Ramsbottom when he dummied and passed to Sam, sending her tumbling sideways on her brown horse. Sam scored easily – 1-0.

Harry was so enthralled at Pegasus' many brilliant moves that he forgot to try and catch the Snicker when it came close. He suddenly remembered and lunged for it – he missed, but caught the Kaffle, which he threw straight past Ron into the goal – 2-0. "I'm ready to lose," he said sarcastically.

Pegasus nearly scored when Madam Hooch called for a penalty – Max had ridden his horse straight into Rudolf's. Pegasus gave the Kaffle to Harry, who shot forwards – and scored again! Maybe he was better at Withersball than he thought.

The other side's first goal came when George scored after Rudolf and Tessa left the goal wide open. Harry streaked up the pitch to try and stop him, but Pinpin wasn't quite fast enough – 3-1.

Pegasus himself scored for the first time a minute later, and soon made two more: 6-1. Harry had a brief scare when he saw Lizzy streaking towards the Snicker, but she didn't make it. Sam scored again, but so did Max – twice. A bit of excellent defending from Ron stopped Pegasus and Harry three times each, and Lizzy and George each scored to make it seven goals to five.

Harry had the Kaffle within scoring range once more when Pegasus shouted "POTTER!" He turned to see the Snicker just six feet behind him, dropped the Kaffle, stretched out his stick – and caught it! They had won the first chukka 22-5.

Their luck continued into the next chukka. They scored fifteen goals and let in just three, and when Harry caught the Snicker a second time, the team where in jubilation. "We're forty-four points ahead!" yelled Pegasus. "Keep it up!"

But they didn't. Harry and the Defence failed to get the Kaffle to Pegasus and Sam, and mistakes by Rudolf and Tessa proved costly. They let in sixteen goals and didn't score a single one – which wasn't surprising, as Pegasus only touched the ball once. But it didn't matter, as Harry caught the Snicker again to lose the chukka but win the match. The final score was 67-24 and Harry dismounted happily. He led Pinpin back to the stable and into her stall – and in the straw at the bottom he found a trapdoor.     


	19. The Old Man

_Chapter 19: The Old Man_

Harry stood for a moment, wondering what to do. He decided to go down the trapdoor. It was probably just a cellar for straw or something. No one would mind. He checked to see if anyone was watching. Apart form Pinpin, no. He knelt down by the trapdoor and cleared away the straw that lay on top of it. The winged horse looked at him curiously. "It's OK," Harry whispered.

He tried the handle on top of the door. It wouldn't budge. He took out his wand. "_Alohomora_," he muttered. The door swung open, creaking horribly. Harry froze, but nothing happened. He climbed slowly into the hole in the floor. The pony looked down at him. "You stay there," he whispered. "I'll be back soon." She turned away, and Harry shut the door behind him.

It was total darkness. There wasn't even light coming through the gaps at the side of the trapdoor. "_Lumos_," Harry said. His wand tip flared, sending out a narrow beam of light. Harry swung it around. He was in a narrow stone tunnel, which led off it the direction of the school.

Harry walked on, bending to avoid the low roof and using his wand to search around. He wished he could see more that the small area the wand illuminated, them he remembered something he'd learned in Professor Gabriel's last Transfiguration lesson. You could change how objects reacted to light. If he could make the stone walls reflect …

It happened without him even trying. The beam of light sprung off the roof of the tunnel back to the floor, where it bounced again, until a series of criss-crossing lines of light appeared to be filling the tunnel. Harry touched the walls. They were no different. But they obviously _were_ different. He had done a Transfiguration that was not directly obvious.

Harry continued along the tunnel. It was much easier now that he could see where he was going. He carried on walking for about ten minutes, past stalactites and stalagmites and colonies of tiny bats hanging from the ceiling. He wondered what they ate. In time the tunnel seemed to become narrower and lower, until Harry came to a tiny wooden door, no more than three feet high. The light extinguished. "Come in, Mr. Potter," said a tired, old voice.

Harry pushed open the door and crawled inside. He couldn't see anything. He wondered if he had been imagining things, or if he'd gone the wrong way when …

A dim light appeared in the centre of the tunnel, which had widened out into a small stone room. A man was sitting at a low wooden table with a loaf of bread, a lighted candle and a cup of ale. "Do sit down," he said.

Harry sat down on the floor opposite the man and surveyed him. He was small, no more than five feet high, and was wearing ragged grey robes. He had a long, matted grey beard and hair, and was holding a small stick, which could have been a homemade wand. "Who are you?" asked Harry.

"My name has been lost," croaked the man. "No-one has used it for a very long time. No-one has ever been to see me before now."

"How do you get –" Harry motioned at the bread and ale.

"I steal it," croaked the old man. His voice sounded nervous and upset. "I take it from the college. They do not know. You won't tell, will you, will you?"

"No," said Harry. "Why should I?"

"Promise? Promise?" asked the wizard, and Harry nodded. His face broke into a smile. "Thankyou, thankyou, Harry Potter."

"How do you know my name?"

"Magic," replied the wizard. "It is that simple. I have nothing more to do, so I practise my magic. I see what the bats are doing. I give them food, you know. Would you like some?"

"Yes, please," said Harry. The Withersball game had expelled his hunger, but now it had returned. The wizard passed over a piece of bread. "Why are you down here?" asked Harry.

"The world will not take me," answered the wizard. "The world does not suit my needs. Imagine being alone in a foreign country. That is what it is like for me."

"Are you foreign?" asked Harry.

"What?" returned the wizard, surprised. "Oh, no, no. I'm not foreign."

"So you live here all the time?" inquired Harry.   

"No, no," said the old wizard. "I go out at night. I can cope then, you see. There is no one to disturb me. I tend your horses. The one who is meant to care for them – she frightens them." He stopped, and began to gaze into space. Harry finished his bread in silence, and walked towards the door. "I'll go now, then," he said.

"No," said the wizard. His voice had become deep and strong, he was standing up and he appeared to be sending out a light from his very body. His beard and robes seemed white, his eyes and voice were like thunder and lightning. Harry froze. "No," continued the wizard. "Don't go yet! I must warn you of something first! There is a man who wants to kill you. He has sent his servant, Millstew, to find you. This man's name is Lord Amarenox. You must keep away from him. You must keep away from him. You must …"

Harry drew out his wand, ready to strike if the wizard attacked him, but nothing happened. The wizard sank back onto the floor. He voice became uneasy again. "Do not listen to me!" he said. "I am not in my right mind. I am a mad old man! Go now! Do not return! It is for your own safety!"

Harry pushed open the door and crawled back along the tunnel in the reflected wand-light. 


	20. The Spell Challenge

_Chapter 20: The Spell Challenge_

It was decided in the tutor period on Monday morning that Harry's first proper lesson of the new week should be Curses, but when Harry, Ron, Rudolf, Lizzy and Hannah arrived in Room 3, they found Kingsley Shacklebolt in outdoor clothes. "What are we doing, professor?" asked Hannah.

"We will be in the Spell Challenge Arena today," Kingsley told them all in his deep voice. "If you'd like to go to the changing rooms and get your sports robes on, I'll see you there in five minutes."

"Vair is it, sir?" asked Rudolf.

"Behind the pavilion," replied Kingsley. "You were all very good in the game on Saturday, especially Harry."

"He disappeared after der game," said Rudolf. "Vair did you go, Harry?"

"I – er – I went for a walk," replied Harry. "You know – around the stables."

"Oh," said Rudolf. "Ve'd better get going." They left to the changing rooms.

The Spell Challenge Arena turned out to be a large circle of land, about an acre, covered in gravel. Everyone's thoughts were voiced by Hannah, who said loudly, "Is this all?"

Kingsley smiled. "No," he answered. "This is merely the arena surface. I can turn it into nearly anything I like with a simple spell. Today you will be trying to get through a jungle complete with hidden traps and enemies. Don't worry. You can't be hurt. Just behave as you would in a real situation, and use all of your knowledge. Everyone step into the circle, please. First to finish receives a prize."

Harry and the others stepped into the circle. Kingsley muttered something inaudible, and Harry found himself standing in a clearing, with huge trees towering up on every side. There was no sign of any of the other students. Harry took a deep breath, and walked forward a step.

Nothing happened. He took another step. Still nothing. And another. And another. And another. Nothing.

He put his wand back into his belt, and immediately regretted it. A beam of light hit him squarely on the chest, knocking him backwards. How stupid could you get? Any enemies he had were bound to attack him when he was defenceless. 

Harry got to his feet, took his wand back out of his belt, and looked around. The spell had come from in front of him. "_Stupefy_!" he yelled, sending a beam of red light in that direction. There was a yell, a thud, and silence. Harry walked forwards. A figure of a man lay on the floor, but on closer inspection it turned out to be merely a dummy.

As he was bending down, Harry felt himself being encompassed by pain. He turned, his body aching, to see two dummies behind him. He needed something that could 'kill' both of them – maybe a kind of magical grenade. As the pain built up, it was getting harder and harder for him to think. What spell could he use? What spell could he use? OW! What spell could he use? ARGH! What spell …?

The answer came to him in a flash. It was a spell Voldemort had used in the final battle at Hogwarts. Harry could just remember the incantation: _Omnisnecare_. The pain was building. Harry raised his wand, and concentrated on the effect he wanted and the point between the two dummies. "_Omnisnecare_!" he shouted. Nothing happened. The pain was almost unbearable. "_Omnisnecare_!_ Omnisnecare_!" Still nothing. Harry fell to the floor and shouted one last time: "_Omnisnecare_!" There was an instantaneous explosion. Harry was flung backwards, and he could see the two dummies falling to the floor. The pain had stopped.

Harry checked his watch. He had been in the jungle for five minutes. "_Protego_," he muttered, bringing up an invisible barrier to shield him. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing. It would take a lot of effort to keep up.

The Shield Charm came in useful after just a few minutes. Harry found himself surrounded on all sides by a group of dummies, all firing spells at him relentlessly. Harry turned, and yelled the first spell that came to his head – _Expelliarmus_. One of the dummies dropped its wand, and Harry ran forwards to pick it up. It was flimsy, and snapped easily in two.

As soon as he snapped the wand, Harry was attacked even harder. There were five dummies left armed. Harry finished off two with Stunning Spells, two more with _Expelliarmus_, the Disarming Charm, and the last with a well-aimed Severing Charm to the head: _Diffindo_. He wondered vaguely if he'd ever have to do this in real life. Checking his watch again, he saw that there was just over an hour left in the lesson.

He walked on until he came into another clearing, where a huge dummy, at least twenty feet high, stood: a moving model of a giant. As soon as it 'saw' Harry it came striding at him, and its huge feet threatened to crush the wizard. Harry had little time to think: what could he do? The giant's skin and crude clothing would repel most spells. With a flick of his wand he conjured up huge, heavy chains, which wrapped themselves around the giant who stumbled and fell over, before starting to pick and the chains. Harry ran, and was glad of his speediness: it looked like the giant could escape in a few minutes.

He stopped when he came to a small stream, and knelt down to drink, taking the crystal-clear water in his palms. He sipped, and immediately felt his mouth burn – the liquid obviously wasn't water. It appeared to be eating at his tongue, but Harry managed to gabble "_Wyni_ _inanatem_," to stop the spell. He created some real, or at least magically real, water from his wand and drank that instead, before leaping over the stream and carrying on. 

A band of dummies mobbed him a few minutes later, but he repelled them easily with a few simple charms. Continuing, Harry came across a monstrous sight: a huge, fire-breathing cloth model of a dragon. He ducked behind the nearest tree, hoped the dragon wouldn't see him, and began to think.

When he had fought a dragon four years ago he had used his broomstick to get past. He was too far from his broomstick to access it now, even with a spell, but he could, if he was quick, make a broom. He cut off a branch from the tree and swiftly charmed it so that it would fly. Then he jumped onto it, and spurted forwards. The 'broom' was even slower than Hogwarts' old Shooting Stars, but allowed him to fly into the air and away from the dragon, which gave up chasing him after about fifty feet. This was lucky, because at that point the log gave way and Harry fell to the floor.

Whenever he looked back Harry had no idea of how he managed to escape that fall. In the few split-seconds he had, he Conjured a magical trampoline below, and when he hit it he bounced up again, and again, and again, until coming finally to a stop.

Harry clambered off the trampoline and walked on. He was attacked three more times by the dummy-enemies, some by their own, some in large groups, until he came to the largest clearing yet. A black shape on the floor was advancing towards him: a Lethifold.

Harry remembered reading about these terrifying creatures in _Fantastic Beasts and Wear To Find Them_. They would suffocate you and devour you without trace, and the only way to defeat them was with the Patronus Charm. 

The cloak-like animal was drawing closer. Harry raised his wand and bellowed "_EXPECTO PATRONUM_!" A huge silver stag appeared, galloped forward and threw the Lethifold into the air. As the murderous beast landed, the stag trampled it to the floor, turned to face Harry, and was gone.

Harry walked forward, taking care to avoid the crushed Lethifold on the floor, walked through the trees and came out into bright sunlight. Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing there holding a piece of parchment. "Well done, Harry," he congratulated. "You're first to finish. You can have ten reward points and the rest of the lesson off. Ask the house-elves for a chocolate bar. You are free to go."

    


	21. The Armripper

_Chapter 21: The Armripper_

Nothing particularly eventful happened in the next three weeks. Harry enjoyed nearly all of his lessons, especially Physical Training and Sport. He learnt to play games he had not tried before: Battemarie, a game a bit like baseball except that the ball you were meant to hit, the Quickset, zoomed around in a circle and two others, the Dodgeballs, tried to knock you over; Swivenhodge, a wizarding version of tennis played on broomsticks that were flown the wrong way round; and Quodpot, a violent American game where you had to try and score by putting the bright red ball into a small cauldron – the ball was liable to explode, which meant you had to leave the field. All in all it was great fun.

Harry awoke on the last day of October to a chorus of _Happy Harry Potter Day to you_ from Ron and _Ve vish you a merry Harry Potter Day_ from Rudolf.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked.

"It's Harry Potter Day," said Ron, handing Harry a card with a smiling picture of himself. "The day when we celebrate your defeat of Voldemort. Dad declared it an official holiday."

Harry remembered something Professor McGonagall had said in the book Joanne had written, in the very first chapter. It seemed as if one of her predictions had come true. He also remembered something else: "It's Halloween," he said.

"So what?" replied Ron, while Rudolf smiled. "I think Harry Potter Day's much more important. Look at all the cards." He gestured at the pile of cards at the end of Harry's bed. Harry picked them up and began to open and read:

_Happy Harry Potter Day, to Harry from Rudolf_.

_Wishing you a very Happy Harry Potter Day, from Albus Dumbledore (PS – remember to look out for Millstew)._

_Well Done Harry, love Hermione._

_You are the New Crumple-Horned Snorkack, love Luna._

_My Hero, love Ginny (PS, the baby's doing fine. Any ideas for a name?)._

_Good Luck, from Neville._

_Happy HP Day, Hagrid._

_Have a good day, from Lizzy._

_Well-done Harry, from Bill Weasley (PS – I'll try and set you up an Order of Merlin)._

_Best wishes on your special day, love Kelly._

_To the Dark Lord's Defeater, from your vampire friends._

_Harry Potter is truly great, from Dobby, Winky and Harry Jr._

_To a real joke of a man, from Fred and George Weasley and Remus Lupin._

_To Harry Potter, from Gladys Gudgeon._

Harry stopped there. There were a huge number of cards. All of a sudden an owl flew down from nowhere and stopped in front of Harry, and envelope in its beak. Hedwig looked at it, annoyed, Pig looked pleased to have a possible new friend. Harry took the envelope and placed it on the pile, but the owl pecked him angrily. He took the letter and read the address: _Harry Potter, Dormitory 6, Andros Auror Training College, Birmingham Road, nr. Lichfield, Staffordshire_, in a handwriting he didn't recognise. It was definitely his. He put it back on the pile, but the owl pecked him again. It really wanted him to read the letter, so Harry opened it and put his hand inside, and the owl flew off through the door.

Harry's hand was in agony. It was as if nails had been driven into it, or as if some huge dog was chewing it. He grabbed the envelope with his other hand and tried to remove it, but it wouldn't budge.

Ron and Rudolf looked at him, shocked. "Oh, no," said Rudolf. "Dey sent you an Armripper. Get it off – quickly."

"I can't!" said Harry. "It –," he pulled again, "won't – come – off. Get someone."

Ron ran off into the corridor and Rudolf pulled out his wand. "I'll do someting," he said. "_Eximus_." There was a horrible ripping noise and the envelope continued up Harry's arm. He screamed with the pain. Rudolf looked extremely worried.

Ron came running in with Professor Confessus, who tried the same charm as Rudolf to exactly the same effect. "It won't come off," he told them, like a doctor telling his patient that he has a serious illness. "He must go to St. Mungo's. Quickly – can you Apparate with it on?" he asked Harry.

"I – think – so – AARGH," he replied. "Ye – es."

"Let's go then," said Professor Confessus urgently. "3 – 2 – 1 …"

St. Mungo's, St. Mungo's, thought Harry, trying to block out the pain. He felt himself flying then – BUMP.

"I don't know where we need to go," Professor Confessus told Harry as they stood in the hospital. "It could be Artefact Accidents, Spell Damage or even Animal-Induced Injuries. You stay there while I find out."

Harry nodded, then felt to the floor. The last thing he knew was immeasurable pain in his left arm, then, once more, everything went black.

Harry awoke to find himself lying in a neatly made hospital bed. He reached out for his glasses – and stopped. The pain in his arm had lessened, but it was still too bad for him to be able to cope with him moving it.

"Are you awake, Mr. Potter?" said a kindly female voice. "Would you like your glasses?"

"Yes, please," Harry replied, and a blurred green shape put them onto his face. He saw that the woman was a Healer. He looked around. On the bedside cabinet lay a mauled, bleeding mass of flesh next to a shredded envelope – Harry's hand and the Armripper. "What happened?" he asked weakly.

"The Armripper took your lower arm off before we could do anything," said the Healer sadly. "We're trying to make you a artificial replacement. There was a message inside the envelope. I don't know if you'd understand it. The Ministry will want to know about this, of course." She passed him a small shred of paper, and Harry read:

_You'll never stop me now. TM._

"Thomas Millstew," he muttered. "Lord Amarenox. Of course."

"Pardon, Mr. Potter?" replied the Healer.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," said Harry. His life was in danger, and he knew it.


	22. The Handylimb 5000

_Chapter 22: The Handylimb 5000_

Harry lay in bed for a few hours, watching the goings-on in the ward. He was in too much pain to do anything. He asked the Healer to take away his arm – looking at it made him feel sick. 

While Harry was eating lunch one-handed off a tray, another Healer, male this time, came in holding a clipboard. He was grey-haired, partially bald and wore round glasses. "Mr. Potter?" he asked politely.

"Yes," replied Harry.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. I've got some good news."

Harry sat up. "What is it?" he asked eagerly.

"We got you a new lower arm," replied the Healer. "It's top-quality. Have you heard of the Handylimb range?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not very interested in medical things."

"Shame," said the Healer, also shaking his head, though obviously for a different reason than Harry's. "They are very interesting. Anyway, Handylimbs have been in production for over fifty years now – Australian-made, I believe – and a new model has been released, just last week, so it happens – the Handylimb 5000. It has full sensitivity, fully realistic movement and will adapt to match your own body, so in time it will become a genuine organ. It also has a few," the Healer paused, "extra features," he said hurriedly. "Of course, you would probably much prefer to have this than any other artificial limb – we could conjure something in a few seconds, but it wouldn't be anything like as good. However, you can only have a Handylimb – or any of the other artificial arms available – if you're prepared to pay. What do you think?"

"How much is it?" inquired Harry.

"Fifty Galleons," answered the Healer. "If you think you can afford it …"

"I can," said Harry. He was going to be fine! This Handylimb seemed a lot better than what Voldemort had given Peter Pettigrew, his 'servant'.

"Good," said the Healer, smiling. "We'll bring it in then. You'll be able to leave in an hour."

He left, and came back five minutes later with a team of five assistants in pale blue robes. Two of them were carrying a large crate together.

"It's your left hand, isn't it?" asked the Healer excitedly. He obviously wanted to see how this new device worked.

"Yes," said Harry. Wincing, he took the stump from underneath the bedclothes and presented it to one of the assistants, who tied it to a wooden board with markings on it.

"Two inches below the elbow," said the assistant to one of his colleagues. The crate was opened, and the Handylimb was taken out. It was a pinkish colour, and started at the shoulder. There was no hair growing on it and neither were there any lines on the palm or wrinkles at the joints. A faint blue light shone from the arm. It didn't look that realistic to Harry.

"Left, two inches below elbow," said one of the assistants who had been carrying the crate. There was a cracking noise, and the upper arm disappeared. It had also flipped over, so as to become a left hand instead of a right. 

Another assistant measured Harry's healthy arm with a tape, then told the Handylimb the results. It crackled, becoming larger, until it was the right size for Harry. Then it was taken and placed on the board beside the stump of Harry's arm. There was a loud _POP!_

Harry felt a curious sensation. The pain had gone and in its place was an odd tingling feeling – as if he was growing. He glanced down at his new arm, and was aware of all the assistants and the Healer looking too. The colour of his own flesh was extending into that of the Handylimb, and short black hairs were sprouting. The blue light had gone, but in its place were thousands of tiny wrinkles and markings – exactly the same as before, down to the last blemish. Nails had sprouted from the ends of the fingers. Harry wriggled his fingers, and smiled. It was like his own hand had come back!

"It gets better," said the Healer, sounding like Harry felt. "Remember those extras I told you about?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, there's plenty of them. For one, this hand will now function as your stronger right hand always has done, so in effect you'll be ambidextrous. But you must keep using it, or it will cease to work as well. Also, you can perform a number of simple 'spells' simply by the power of thought. For example, imagine your hand was glowing."

Harry imagined, and a circle of bright light shone around his fingers. He moved his hand around, casting strange shadows on the walls.

"That isn't all it can do. This hand will adjust its temperature so that it never needs a glove, and it will have optimised grip. Very good for sport! You'll never need a key again, as you can train doors to respond only to your touch. And you can perform household tasks, such as ironing and cooking, by simply running your new limb along the clothes or putting it near food. Read the handbook for more details." He passed Harry a small red book. "Use it well."

Harry nodded, thanked the Healer and his assistants, and climbed out of bed. "Ask the goblins to take the money from my account," he told them. 

"Yes, of course," said the Healer. "Come again if you ever need treatment."

"Can I Disapparate in here?" asked Harry.

"Go out into the corridor, please," said the Healer. "Goodbye!"

"Bye!" said Harry, and walked out of the door. He concentrated hard, and then was flying.    

He landed outside Professor Confessus' office. He knocked, and went in to find the elderly Auror pouring over notes.

"You're back!" said the Headmaster. "Did you get a new arm? Ah, yes, very nice. Do sit down."

Harry sat. "Do you want to talk to me, sir?" he asked.

"Ah, yes," said Professor Confessus solemnly. "Yes. I'd just like to say that you were very lucky. A few more minutes and that envelope would have been halfway up your neck. You wouldn't have survived."  


	23. The Command of the Dark Lord

_Chapter 23: The Command of the Dark Lord_

Rudolf and Ron were very pleased to see that Harry was well again. 

"You missed der Quodpot game," said Rudolf. "Ve vun by twenty-sefen goals to fourteen."

"With this hand, I'll be excellent at sport, that's what the Healer said," Harry told him. "It's got in-built grip."

"Cheat," said Ron, but Harry could tell that he didn't really care.

"I'm going on the Tri-X," Harry informed his friends. "Want to watch?" 

"I haf homeverk," replied Rudolf.

"I'll come," said Ron. "Let's go."

After Harry had been playing for half an hour Ron left to get some food. Harry found himself taking Melkius Karrelus down a long, winding tunnel. It was dark and there was no sound but the dripping of water. The roof was very low. It reminded Harry of somewhere.

After a few minutes of crouching down and fighting off bats, Karrelus came into a small cave. There was no light. Harry hesitated for a moment, and then pressed the forward key. 

A terrible voice filled the cave, and Harry jumped. He put his new hand on the cast key, ready to attack.

"NOW YOU WILL DIE!" rang out the voice in piercing tones. "NOW YOU WILL DIE! NOW – YOU – WILL – DIE!"

There was a sudden rumbling noise, and the Tri-X started to shake. Harry looked around the darkened common room. It was as deserted as the cave.

A dim light had appeared in the centre of the cave, which appeared to be moving downwards. Harry made Kerrelus run to the walls of the cave, but all the little character could do was say, "There is no way out!" 

Suddenly water started to seep in through the floor. The cave continued to move downwards and Kerrelus was engulfed in the icy liquid. Harry saw a few bubbles, then the screen went black and read, "GAME OVER."

The game restarted from just outside the cave. Harry looked around, but could see no alternative route. He controlled the character into the cave, which once more began to sink. When the water began to rise he tried the Bubble-Head Charm, but it was no use. The bubble popped, and Kerrelus died.

Time after time Harry tried to escape, using spell after spell. On what must have been the fiftieth attempt, he Transfigured a huge rock as a last resort – and the cave stopped moving. The rock was too heavy for whatever was pushing or pulling to move. Kerrelus scrambled onto the top of the rock, blasted a hole in the cave roof and scrambled up quickly as the cave collapsed below him.

Harry saved and quitted the game. It was getting late and he was hungry.

Harry's new hand did indeed turn out to be a useful asset, both for sports and otherwise. In Curses on Wednesday, where they had to swing between trees like Tarzan to escape their dummy enemies, Harry did far better than anyone else and when they played Quidditch in Physical Training on Friday, he caught the Quaffle and Snitch so easily that Madam Hooch ordered him to "Put on a glove or tie your hand up in rags."

It was cold, wet and rainy at the weekend, but all the same Harry was glad to be back in the air, playing his favourite sport. He was also glad to find that he was better than Pegasus Equiner at something. They were both Seekers on separate teams, and Harry's side won 270-40 after a thrilling ninety-minute game.

Harry was also doing very well on personal points. He had 135, eight more than his closest competitor, third-year Sam Mesalla. He seriously began to wonder what the promised prize would be.

Yet another gruelling week passed, and Harry really began to feel the strain. He could now transfigure different forms of energy into small solid objects, and vice versa, identify plants by smell, make potions to conserve energy, follow a wizard from hundreds of miles away and attempt to train trolls to perform some tasks for him, although he thought it would probably be easier to do them himself.

He wished he was allowed to use his Energy Conservation Concoctions, but their use was strictly controlled. 

On the third Monday of November Professor Confessus revealed to the students that they were ready to start to use their Time Turners. Harry took his from his bag, and put it on the desk in front of him.

"We will be travelling back in time two hours," said Professor Confessus. "We will work for an hour, then return to this time. You will be allowed the rest of the period off, as we will of course return to where we started. I happened to glimpse ourselves in this room this morning, so I know that we will manage. OK, everyone. Take your Turners, put them around your necks and rotate them twice."

Harry picked up his Time Turner and placed it over his head. He picked it up – and dropped it. It swung round – once, twice, three times. Harry saw a mass of swirling colour, then found himself back where he started.

The room was dark – it was only six o'clock in the morning. Harry got up, and lit the torches with his wand. He didn't know how to get back. He supposed he'd just have to wait.

He sat down at the desk and began to read the _150 Points _Quidditch magazine that Ron had left in the room the previous Friday. It was full of action-shots of players from various Quidditch games. Harry could see why no wizard had bothered to invent anything like a TV – you went to the games, listened to them on the WWN or looked at the photos. 

At half-past the torches went out. Harry froze. The early morning sunlight that managed to get through the blinds was casting a shadow beside the blackboard – a tall figure. Harry looked around. There was no one behind him. 

"Millstew," said a terrible, ancient voice, and Harry turned back to the shadow. "I am glad you have kept our meeting."

Harry looked around. Nobody was answering. The shadow obviously thought that he was Thomas Millstew – but why? And if he was Millstew, that must have made the shadow – Lord Amarenox. "Yes, my lord," said Harry, trying to sound intimidated – it came easily.

"Have you killed Potter yet?" thundered the shadow.

"Not yet my lord," said Harry, thinking fast. "Er – he is in the building."

"Fool!" bellowed the voice. "I have told you – we cannot murder him personally unless he is alone. There are others in his dormitory."

"Yes, of course, my lord," said Harry, hoping he sounded like he was grovelling. "But I have tried to kill him. The vampire has made friends with him and the Armripper only got as far as the elbow. Er – what shall I try now? My lord," he added.

"I thought you said you had a plan," growled Amarenox.

"Oh, yes," said Harry. "I forgot. Er – let me think."

There was silence for a few seconds. Harry considered attacking the shadow, but it seemed foolish to duel with someone he couldn't see. He tried to think of a way in which he could kill himself, but Amarenox beat him too it.

"Was it something to do with the owl?" he asked. "Poison it to madness so that it pecked him to death?"

"Yes, my lord, that was it," replied Harry. "I was going to feed her – it, I mean – feed it a – er – Craziness Concoction and a Babbling Beverage at the same time. That's meant to have terrible effects."

"You seem rather unsure this morning, Millstew" said the voice.

"It's early. My lord," said Harry, and gave a fake yawn. "I'm tired."   

"Oh," said the voice haughtily and disapprovingly. "Of course. You do understand how important it is to get rid of Potter, don't you? We don't want to make the mistakes of," Amarenox paused, "certain other Dark Lords and let our victims find out too much."

"No, no, my lord," said Harry, trembling. "I will destroy him."

"Good. After that we must get to the Orb of Light. It will allow the world to survive once we have done the work we need to do. We must destroy it. I will see you back here on the next full moon. Goodbye."

"My lord," replied Harry.

The shadow disappeared quietly, and Harry sat and thought. Now he knew why they wanted to get rid of him, but what was Amarenox 'needing to do'? And what was the Orb of Light? 

After Professor Confessus and the class had appeared from nowhere in the classroom, Harry barely paid attention to the lesson. He wondered about telling somebody, but remembered what Dumbledore had said: "You are an adult now. You have to make your own decisions, your own choices." 


	24. Hedwig’s Safety and Pig’s Madness

_Chapter 24: Hedwig's Safety and Pig's Madness_

During the time he had free after Professor Confessus' lesson, Harry went to the Owlery. He found Hedwig sitting on her perch. She looked down at him and Harry stroked her head.

"You're not safe," he whispered. "Someone wants to make you go mad – to kill me."

Hedwig hooted in disbelief.

"I need to take you somewhere," continued Harry, not thinking about where. "Somewhere where you'll be safe."

Hedwig looked down at him mournfully, and he picked her up and walked out into the cold air. Where could he take her?

He tried the pavilion, but that seemed to far away. He considered taking her into the dormitory, but that wasn't allowed. Maybe he could send her home – but what would she do and who would deliver his letters?

In the end he decided – he would take her to the old man below the stables. He looked after the horses, so surely he could be trusted to look after Hedwig.

Harry checked his watch. He had half an hour – plenty of time. He carried Hedwig to the stables, brushed back the straw, and descended into the dark tunnel. 

Hedwig gave a hoot of fright, but Harry lit the tunnel – with his hand, this time – and made the walls reflective. Then he set off down the narrow passageway.

The journey took slightly longer with Hedwig on his arm and his hand raised to create light. The owl was slightly disapproving of the bats, and Harry was glad when he finally reached the door. He knocked once, and then entered.

"I told you not to return," croaked the old wizard, who was eating at the low table.

"I'm sorry," said Harry. "Listen, could you do me a favour?"

"I told you –"

"I said, I'm sorry," stressed Harry. "But my owl's in danger. I need your help."

The wizard smiled slyly. "She's in danger, is she? What can I do?"

"Keep her here with you, if you could."

"Gladly," said the old wizard. "Gladly, yes, I could care for your owl. For how long?"

"As long as it takes."

"Of course, of course. I understand. As long as it takes. All right, then. I'll take her. Go now. When you want her back, leave a message in the horses' trough."

"Thank you, thank you," said Harry, and put Hedwig down on the table. He checked his watch. He had ten minutes. "I've got to go now." 

The wizard nodded. "Of course," he croaked. 

As Harry closed the door, he was sure he felt something hot surge up behind him. He ran through the tunnel, and arrived at his lesson, Spell Creation, just in time.

The first end-of-term exams were upon them, it seemed, in a flash. At Hogwarts it would have been snowing by now, but further south you were quite lucky to see snow. The exams seemed reasonably simple, however, as everything that was tested was still fresh in Harry's mind.

In Charms Harry had to charm his own broomstick. It was more successful than the one he had made in the Spell Challenge Arena, and Harry was given 8/10.

In Curses they went into the Arena, where they had to navigate through a dark castle until they reached the top, where they found a 'completion certificate'. This displayed their final score – for Harry it was full marks. 

Concealment and Disguise was also in the Arena – they had to sneak past dummies. Despite getting a burn to his leg, Harry did quite well. Stealth and Tricking was the exact opposite – they had to find the dummies. Professor Confessus awarded Harry a nine.   

Harry felt that he did unusually well in Potions – he was top of the class with his Time Twisting Tonic, which also got nine. He didn't do so well in Herbology, though – they had to breed Gillyweed by artificial selection using special specimens that grew very quickly, but Harry chose the wrong plants. His final mark was only 40%.

In Spell Creation, Harry succeeded in creating a rock that exploded to create a lava river. He received 10 and wasn't far behind in Transfiguration, with an eight. In Physical Training, he completed the exercise circuit in a personal record time, and Madam Hooch gave him 10/10.

Finally, in Care of Magical Creatures, Harry did really badly, though it wasn't his fault. He combed his horse's wings the wrong way, and Madam Masters gave him a fifteen-minute time penalty, as well as making him clean out the stable afterwards for the next week. His mark was just two out of ten.

He was feeling unusually happy when the Headmaster dismissed them all from assembly for the last time that term the week before Christmas. He felt a bit guilty about leaving Hedwig, but it seemed best to not disturb the old man underground. He regretted his choice after what happened later that afternoon – it seemed that Millstew had already struck.

The five first-years climbed out of Professor Gabriel's car and it drove off. Lizzy and Hannah Disapparated, but Harry, Ron stayed behind to say goodbye to Rudolf.

"Bye!"

"See you!"

"_Auf Wiedersehen_!"

That was when it happened. Pig had been unusually fretful all throughout the drive, and Ron let him out of his cage to stretch his wings. There was an angry squawk, and the bird attacked its master.

Ron yelled out in pain: Pig was pecking madly at his face. Rudolf and Harry looked on in horror as Pig forced Ron down onto the floor. Their friend's face was now covered in as many spots of blood as it was in freckles. Harry drew out his wand and yelled "_Stupefy_!" 

Pig glowed red, but nothing else happened. Harry repeated the spell, and so did Rudolf, to the same effect. Then the German tried to pull off the bird, but he ended up with torn and bloody arms. Rudolf looked at Harry in exasperation, then:

"_CRUCIO_!" 

Pig didn't seem to feel the pain. Ron was now lying on his front, face pressed into the pavement, and Pig was tearing off chunks of red hair and flesh.

Harry plunged his arm at the bird – and was glad of the one he tried to use – his left. It didn't real any pain, though Pig scraped and pecked at it. Harry threw the owl into its cage, and then pulled Ron to his feet.  

"Thanks," breathed Ron. He was sweating, and water was running into his wounds. "Why did that happen?"

"I dunno," Harry lied. "Let's hope it wears off. Let's get you home and clean you up."


	25. The New SPEW

_Chapter 25: The New SPEW_

"I vill come vid you," said Rudolf. "Vair does Ron live?"

"94 Diagon Alley," Harry said. "Are we Apparating?"

"I'm not walking anywhere like this," said Ron.

"OK," replied Rudolf. "After tree? Tree, two, vun –"

Harry Apparated and found himself outside the SPEW shop. Rudolf and Ron were beside him. 

"Let's go in," said Ron. Rudolf pushed open the door and Harry and Ron followed him inside. Hermione was sitting at the counter.

"You're back!" she said. "But, Ron, what's happened to you and – and who's this?"

"I was attacked by Pig," replied Ron, kissing Hermione. "He went sort of crazy. And this is Rudolf – I've mentioned him in my letters."

"_Hallo_," said Rudolf. "May I sit down?" He gestured to a seat.

"Feel free," said Ron, who went behind the counter and sat down beside Hermione. Harry slouched against the wall and watched Hermione mend Ron's wounds with her wand. "You'll be OK," she said. "Let's let Pig out."

"Be careful," warned Ron.

Cautiously, Hermione opened the door of Pig's cage. The bird made to fly out and attack her, so she pushed him back inside. "Ow!"

 "Can you tell what's wrong?" asked Ron. Rudolf was reading one of the SPEW booklets.

"Ask Harry," said Hermione. "He's the magical creatures expert."

"Not in the test he wasn't," muttered Ron, but Harry came forward to pretend to look at Pigwidgeon. 

"I think it's a potion mixture," he said. "Maybe he drank a Craziness Concoction and a Babbling Beverage together for some reason."

"Of course!" said Hermione, comprehension dawning on her face. "Well, he'll just have to sleep it off. He'll be OK in the morning."

Rudolf looked up. "Vot is dis place?" he enquired.

"The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," said Hermione proudly.

"Vell, don't you tink dat you're going a bit too far?" said Rudolf, holding up the pamphlet he had been reading.

"What do you mean?" said Hermione coldly.

"I mean, vid helping der house-elfs. Maybe if you yust raised funds to keep dem going when dey get old and ven dey are ill, you vud be more popular, vid boat vizards and elfs. Don't you tink?"

"I suppose," said Hermione. "Yes, maybe."

Harry and Ron were looking at Rudolf in amazement, but he continued.

"And maybe I could help you get it international? I haf quite a few foreign friends."

"Really?" said Hermione, looking as amazed as Harry and Ron. "Do you really mean that?"

"Yes," said Rudolf simply.

And so it began – SPEW's new look. Rudolf even thought of a new name – The Society for the Prevention of Elfish Welfare International – SPEWIN, or as Harry and Ron preferred to call it, _spewing_. He sent off owls to some of his friends who seemed to be living all over the world. He even painted over the name of the shop and made a two hundred Galleon donation. "It's nothing," he told them.

But Hermione clearly did think that it was something. By the time the shop had closed for Christmas she had had at least fifty owls asking for membership and it seemed that there would be many more – Rudolf had put an advert in the _Daily Prophet_ and its German equivalent.

On Christmas Day Harry and his friends went to The Burrow. Everyone who the Weasleys knew was there and they all had a very enjoyable time. Rudolf had invited over his band and they played whilst everyone danced, or just watched. Then there was a time of present giving. Harry received more than ever before: something from nearly every single one of his old school friends, something from everyone at Andros, something from nearly everyone else he knew, and even a Muggle Christmas cracker from the Dursleys. It was a poor thing compared to Fred and George's marvellous exploding ones, but Harry was surprised that the Dursleys hadn't forgotten him now he'd left them forever. Harry was glad of all the presents – it made up for all the time and effort he'd spent on everyone else's – and reminded him of the people he'd forgotten. He wrote down their names on a small piece of paper so he wouldn't forget again.

After present opening, which took a very long time indeed, it was time for a small lunch – the main meal would come in the evening. When they had finished, the younger people present, and the 'young at heart' and Remus called himself, had a snowball fight on the paddock. There wasn't actually any snow, but Rudolf managed to conjure up great piles of the white stuff. Ginny didn't want to take part – her baby was due in less than two months. She stayed in the house with the older people, few else of whom were under thirty.

At six o'clock it was time for the big meal. It was marvellous – cooked by Mrs. Weasley with the help of Neddy. Harry had finally told Hermione about the elf, but after Rudolf's drastic changes to SPEW, she didn't mind as much as she would have done. The German's nose had turned pink in the cold, and Ron was calling him 'Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer'. It was lucky it was the festive season, because Rudolf would have turned very angry otherwise.

After dinner everyone headed for home. The Weasleys had offered Harry a bed for the night, but he had turned them down, apologising and saying jokingly that he hadn't spend so much on a house so that he could stay away from it all of the time. He took Neddy, and Apparated.

 It had been, on all counts, a very successful and enjoyable day, thought Harry as he lay in bed and took his hot-water bottle from the house elf. It was a well-deserved rest in the midst of his hard work at Andros. He had met new friends and remet old ones, and enjoyed excellent meals. It was a shame that in less than a week, he would once again be entwined in mysterious and unusual happenings. 


	26. The Orb of Light

_Chapter 26: The Orb of Light_

Harry rested on Boxing Day, but on the day after that he went back to see Kelly and the other vampires. They told him that his anti-Niffler barrier was working very well, but asked him to help them in a few other jobs. These he did willingly over the next four days, and they paid him well.

On New Year's Eve Harry decided that he would have to deposit his newly earned money safely in Gringotts Bank before anything happened to it. Neddy put it in a large leather bag – he kept twenty Galleons back for Harry to spend over the next few days. Harry took the bag, and Apparated to Diagon Alley.

He pulled his cloak over his head to keep out the rushing wind and its chilling blow. Clutching the bag in one hand and his wand in the other, Harry set off down the narrow, crowded street, which seemed to be full of ungrateful people getting rid of unwanted Christmas presents. It would be a haven for pickpockets, and Harry hoped that no one would try and rob him. He didn't want to show off his defence skills here.

He arrived at Gringotts after five minutes. He walked passed the security goblins at the door and removed his cloak from around his head. Then he walked up to the nearest free goblin.

"I'd like to deposit sixty Galleons, fourteen Sickles, please," he told the goblin, who seemed to have an especially pointed face that reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy.

The goblin took the bag and poured its contents onto the counter. He sorted out the gold and silver coins with remarkable speed, before weighing each pile in turn on a pair of magnificent golden scales. After weighing he nodded and scribbled down a number on a piece of parchment. 

"Name?" he asked Harry, who answered. The goblin took his quill and wrote on the bag in large letters: _60/14/- H.J.POTTER_. He signed his name on the bag and refilled it, tied it and gave it back to Harry. He snapped his fingers and another goblin, tall and lanky, ran over. It took the bag and asked Harry to follow him.

The ride on the Gringotts cart was rough and jolty. It took them many feet underground. Finally the cart slowed to a stop and Harry and the goblin climbed out. Harry handed the goblin the bag and his key. The door was opened and Harry caught a fleeting glimpse of his pile of wealth, before his additions to it were poured in and the door was shut and locked. The writing had disappeared from the bag, which the goblin handed back to Harry. They climbed back into the rattling cart and set off back up to the ground.

Harry wasn't sure what happened next. The cart had just taken an especially sharp turning when Harry felt something hi him squarely on the back of the head. He turned to see what it was, and found himself lying on the narrow rail tracks. The cart sped off, and Harry thought that in the poor light he saw a figure disappear around the corner. He set off to follow his cart, but it was no use. There were so many junctions that he had no idea where he was supposed to be going. Twice he narrowly missed being hit by another speeding cart, but neither of them seemed to notice him. He wondered if the goblin had realised he was gone.

After walking through the dark tunnels for over ten minutes, Harry was hopelessly lost. What was more, he was going downwards, not up. He remembered something Hagrid had said over seven years ago: nobody escaped from Gringotts. As he walked past vault door after vault door, he realised why.

He sat down outside the nearest vault door: number 869. Maybe someone would find him if he waited long enough. He had tried Apparating out, but he always landed back where he had started.

The door was one of the security vaults and had no keyhole. Harry hoped he would not be accused of trying to rob it. He felt the cold metal of the door with his artificial hand.

He knew at once that he shouldn't have done it. Seven years ago, the goblin Griphook had said that if anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they would be sucked inside. He jumped back, but nothing happened, or so it seemed at first. The door had creaked open. In the darkness, Harry hadn't noticed, but all of a sudden a light flared inside the vault.

Harry had no idea why his hand had opened the vault. Maybe it was because it was magical, or maybe it was what happened every time. Cautiously he stepped into the chamber. The door stayed open.

The room was larger than the other vaults – about five yards long and three wide. The walls were made of rock, with iron supports. But it was the small table in the centre that drew Harry's attention. It was made of polished oak and was only about a foot wide and three tall. On it sat a crystalline white sphere, about as large as a Bludger in Quidditch. A bright light shone from its very centre, and it was this light that was illuminating the room. Underneath the ball sat a piece of parchment.

Harry picked up the sphere. Surprisingly, it wasn't heavy. He took the parchment and put the ball back. Then he began to read. The writing was medieval in appearance, as if it had been written a very long time ago.

_THE ORB OF LIGHT_

_The Orb of Light is a truly marvellous Object. It shines with a miraculous Light, which cannot be obscured if it wishes to shine. The Orb was created by the Magicians of Old, some say by the great Merlin himself. It was forged using an Ancient Magic, and will shine when no other Light can. It was made, so it is told, in case the Sun was to be destroyed by a Dark force, and will shine as brightly as that Great Light in the Sky if required to. However, the Orb itself can be destroyed simply by touching it with the blood of a Dark Beast, so as to black out the Unicorn's Power that is kept inside it. So it must be kept safe until it is needed, or the World of which we know could be destroyed._

Harry put the parchment back under the Orb of Light. He was remembering something Amarenox had said – the Orb of Light must be destroyed. It would allow the world to survive once the Dark Lord had done the work he 'needed to do'. He must have been planning to get rid of the Sun and plunge the Earth into darkness. He wanted to get rid of Harry so he could do this – had it been Millstew who had caused Harry to fall out of the cart? Was he trying to let the young man die in the maze of Gringotts?

Harry left the vault, closing the door carefully behind him with his left hand. It clicked shut. Then he walked back up the railway track, trying to decide what to do.

He walked for at least fifteen minutes, uphill all the way. At least he knew he was going in the right direction. He was wondering if he would ever escape, when he heard the rattle of a cart. The track was quite wide here, and there was room for him to hold out his illuminated hand without standing on the track.

The cart stopped sharply, and a goblin climbed out. It took a good look at him, and then beckoned him into the cart.


	27. Return to Andros

_Chapter 27: Return to Andros_

The goblin took Harry back up to the main hall of the bank, and led him off into a long and beautifully decorated corridor. Harry was too worried about what was going to happen to pay attention to the magnificent portraits and sculptures, however. 

They came to a well carved, polished mahogany door at the end of the corridor, marked 'HEAD GOBLIN'. The goblin who had found Harry knocked once, then strode inside.

A desk was in the centre of the room. Behind it sat a very important-looking goblin, who appeared rather strange because he had a walrus moustache. In front of it were standing the goblin from the cart and the goblin who had checked Harry's money. 

"Is this the wizard you served?" asked the goblin with the moustache. The goblins in front of the desk both nodded.

"He wasn't behave suspiciously, you say?"

The goblins shook their heads. "I think someone may have tried to hit him with a curse," said the goblin who had taken Harry to his vault. 

"We will investigate it," said the Head Goblin. "Very well then. You may go now."

"Thank you," Harry breathed, and departed, escorted by the goblin who'd found him.

Harry fought his way through the wind and the crowds of people to the SPEWIN Shop, where he found Ron, Hermione and Rudolf serving a large number of customers.

"I need to speak to all of you," he hissed in Ron's ear as he went into the area behind the shop. He sat down on a chair, took a book off the shelf and began to read. It was entitled _The Aims of_ _Dark Wizards_.

Ron, Rudolf and Hermione came through an hour later for a lunch-break. Harry told them everything that had happened: all of Millstew's plots, his meeting with the old man in the cave, his encounter with Amarenox and his strange discovery in the vault at Gringotts. They watched and listened intently.

"You should tell Dumbledore," was Hermione's immediate reaction when he had finished.

"No," said Harry. "I don't want to. I'm an Auror, or at least I will be. I want to handle this myself."

"Oh," said Hermione. "If you say so."

Term restarted on January 17th. Harry, Rudolf and Ron were met by Professor Gabriel, Lizzy and Hannah, and the teacher drove them to the college. They enjoyed a large meal but Harry was disturbed by the non-attendance of the second-years, as well as that of Professor Potts and the Headmaster.

"Where is everyone?" he asked Rudolf and Ron as they started on the main course.

"Don't ask me," Ron replied after he had finished his mouthful of potato. "Maybe Gabriel will tell us." Professor Gabriel was the deputy head.

He was right. At the end of the meal the Spell Creation and Transfiguration teacher stood up. "Some of our younger students may have been wondering about the absence of our second-year pupils. Professors Potts and Confessus have taken them on our annual foreign course, which this year is in China. I think that's everything. Off you go, then."

Harry and the others left to the common room.

"What's the foreign course?" Harry asked Pegasus Equiner.

"It happens every year," the older student replied. "The second-years go off to a foreign country to practise their magic and get some international experience. We went to Transylvania. It was a bit spooky, but there's some excellent sports stadiums."

"Do you know where we'll be going?" asked Harry.

"It won't be announced till next Christmas, if you're anything like us," replied Pegasus. "They take a lot of time organising it – I think it's in case the country we're going to declares war or something. We didn't get a particularly good reception from all of the Transylvanians."

Harry nodded, and made to walk off, then he remembered something else he wanted to know. "What happens to our lessons?"

"Well, Professor Confessus and the Year Head go on the trip every year, if that's what you mean, and you won't take their lessons. You'll do extra in summer – they come back at the end of the Spring Term."

"Thanks for telling me all this," said Harry and left the common room.

"Where are you going?" Ron called after him. He had been playing chess with Rudolf.

Harry doubled back and went right up close to his two friends. "To get Hedwig back," he whispered. "Don't follow me."

It was dark outside. Harry had already written his message for the old man: _Please can I have my owl back now. Thank you. _He would put it into the trough, as he had been told.

It turned out that he didn't need to. He found the old man in the stable, stroking the horses. He jumped back when he sensed Harry, and stood as still as a statue.

"It's me," Harry hissed. "I want my owl back."

The old man's silhouette moved forwards until Harry could see him clearly. He didn't speak.

"I want my owl back, please," repeated Harry.

The old man looked too scared to speak, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. He scuttled into another stall, and came back holding Hedwig, who twittered happily and flew onto her master's shoulder. Harry couldn't help smiling, and patted the bird's head. She was in excellent condition and didn't look any older than when Harry had been given her as a birthday present on the day he found out about the wizarding world. It seemed so long ago.

"Thank you," he breathed to the old man. "You're brilliant."

The man nodded and his lips mouthed something inaudible.

"Pardon?" said Harry, leaning closer.

"Go now, " whispered the old man in Harry's ear. He turned and ran back to the nearest horse, and began to comb its wing with his fingers.

Harry made sure Hedwig was holding onto his arm, then he left the stable and walked back across the darkened pitches to the school.  


	28. Duelling

_Chapter 28: Duelling_

_MAN FOUND 'BARELY ALIVE' IN BANK VAULT_

_A middle-aged man has been discovered in the tunnels of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, London, described by security goblins and Aurors alike as 'barely alive'._

_"He's as thin as an Ashwinder with lack of nutrition, his hair's falling out and he's muttering to himself," said one spokesgoblin. "We found him at six o'clock in the morning on Tuesday, but it seems as if he's been in the bank a lot longer."_

_What will be even more extraordinary to readers is the identity of the wizard. He is, it can be revealed without a doubt, the outlaw and attempting murderer Thomas Millstew, who is on the run after flying broomsticks illegally and is trying to kill 'Boy Who Lived' Harry Potter, now aged 18._

_Millstew has been taken to a private ward at St. Mungo's Hospital, where he will stay before being brought to trial when he is fit. It is expected that he will be sentenced to several years in Azkaban._

_Goblins believe that Millstew was trying to steal a precious object kept in the vaults, but are unsure about what he intended to do with it. "It isn't a murder weapon," they said, "but the vault was opened and the object disturbed on December 30th, three weeks ago, which is, Healers tell us, the time Millstew probably last ate."_

Harry put the _Daily Prophet _down on the table. He stood up, and beckoned for Ron and Rudolf to follow him. He led them out into the corridor, where he told them what he had just read.

"It was me," he finished. "It was me who disturbed the object – the Orb of Light. And someone pushed me out of the cart – I'll bet it was Millstew."

Ron and Rudolf looked at him, lost for words. Then Rudolf said hesitantly, "Vell, at least you're safe now. Millstew is going to Azkaban."

"Then Amarenox will kill me himself," said Harry.

On the first Monday of February Kingsley took Harry and the rest of the first-years to the Spell Challenge Arena. There were no special courses, just a large oval with a boundary marked with a rope, and a glowing magical fence.

"Today," said Kingsley in his deep voice, "we will be duelling."

There was a collective intake of breath. Harry and Ron smiled at each other, Rudolf took out his wand, Lizzy gave him the thumbs-up and Hannah shuddered.

"Yes, yes," smiled Kingsley. "I think – yes, we'll have a little competition. But you must all treat this seriously – it can be very dangerous. I am giving you each a protective cloak." He did so – the cloaks were black and shiny. Harry put it on – it had a hood for his head and wrapped around his body. Kingsley then passed them masks – they were also black, with a transparent slit so that they could see. Harry put it on as well.

"I feel like a Death Eater," said Ron, voicing Harry's thoughts.

"It's essential protective equipment," Kingsley told him. "As strong as dragon hide, or giant skin. It'll take something special to cause any lasting damage. But remember, the object is to get your opponent's wand. We'll play a mini-league I think. That'll make ten games – we'll do it at bit like Muggle boxing. Five minutes per game. If you get the wand you win. I'll also award points for hits on target, and the person with the most will win if nobody gets the other's wand. And of course, you can surrender if you want to, but I would advise against it. This is Auror training, not a school club anymore."

Everyone murmured their agreement.

"Ready, then? Let's go! O'Hare and Brittain, you first!"

Hannah and Rudolf stepped into the circle. Kingsley started them with a quick blast on his whistle and they were quickly firing curses at each other. Rudolf won easily – most of Hannah's shots missed, and her shield against Rudolf's Disarming Charm was too late. He had her wand after three minutes. There was a brief rest and preparation time, then it was Harry versus Lizzy.

The duelling was harder that Harry had expected. Spells had to be strong to have any effect, and while Harry was glad that his own safety gear stopped some of Lizzy's painful spells hurting as much, it was also slightly annoying that he couldn't hurt her either. However, he managed to throw up a Shield Charm that stopped even the spells his cloak wouldn't, and, with a flick of his wand, turned her unguarded hand into a lifeless sack, from which he plucked the wand. Harry sat and rested while Kingsley unTransfigured the hand, and then the teacher shouted out, "O'Hare and Potter, now!"

Rudolf was a much harder opponent than Lizzy. Try as he might, Harry could not stop him, not even with his Patronus. After four minutes, Rudolf grabbed Harry's dropped wand after knocking the exhausted wizard back with a Stunning Spell. It didn't have its full effect, but Harry still felt pretty tired.

Ron played for the first time against Lizzy. He didn't do as well as Harry did, and most of his shots went wide of the target. In the end, it went to points. Lizzy won by a long way.

Next, Harry had to play Hannah. It was a doddle. He had her wand within a minute, and she was lying, exhausted, on the gravel floor. Now he and Rudolf were level on games won, although Harry had played more.

Rudolf faced off against Lizzy next and quickly won back his lead. He hit her time after time, and everyone clapped at his brilliant performance.

Harry's final game was against Ron. He couldn't help feeling sorry for his friend after Ron lost on points again, by only one this time. Then Lizzy played Hannah, and lost after she fell out of the circle.

Now it was Rudolf versus Ron. Harry sat with his fingers crossed – if the German won, he wouldn't have a chance of the title. If Rudolf were to lose, they would have to play-off.

But Rudolf did win, though not as well this time. Ron managed to hold him to points, but Rudolf had landed much more shots. Kingsley smiled at him. "You'll get a prize," he said.

The last game was between Ron and Hannah. Ron, like Harry, won easily. It was his first and only victory, but he had won quicker than anyone else.

Kingsley announced the scores in reverse order. "In joint third place," he read out, "Hannah Brittain, Lizzy Pullman and Ron Weasley." Harry and Rudolf clapped. Kingsley handed each of the unlucky competitors a small bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"In second place," he continued, "Harry Potter." Harry came forwards and Kingsley shook his hand. He received a bag of beans and a Chocolate Frog.

"In first place – Rudolf O'Hare." Everyone clapped loudly. Kingsley handed him beans, a frog and a large chocolate bar. "Well done for beating everyone," he said.

"Yes, well done," repeated Harry later. "Very well done. Let's just hope we're not fighting any real battles soon."

Rudolf smiled at him, then stopped. Harry was being serious.


	29. Back to Hogwarts

_Chapter 29: Return to Hogwarts_

The next week passed with little event, except for the broomstick races on Saturday where Harry was pushed and fell from a height of twenty feet. Luckily, Madam Hooch had managed to get him back to a normal physical and mental state quite quickly.

It was on Thursday night that something happened. Harry was woken suddenly by noises, which turned out to be coming from Ron.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked groggily. There was no reply. Ron was obviously trying to keep still in the dark and pretend nothing had happened.

"What's happening?"

Ron gave up. "I'm leaving."

"Where to?" asked Harry, sitting up in bed and reaching for his glasses.

"Hogwarts. Now, if you don't mind, I need to go."

"Go?" asked Harry, surprised. "Why?"

"Ginny."

"What? Oh – the baby?"

"Yes. Her owl's just turned up with an urgent message – she wants me to come."

"Why you?"

"I don't know. Maybe she thinks it's because I haven't got a job yet, I'm not as busy as anyone else. I don't know." Harry sensed Ron moving towards the door in the dark.

"I'm coming too," said Harry, climbing out of bed.

The door, which had creaked open slightly, shut again. Ron had obviously turned back to face Harry. Rudolf gave a loud snore.

"Harry – she won't want _you_."

"Why not? I'm coming," Harry repeated.

"There isn't much time. I have to go."

"I'm coming," said Harry a third time. "Are we Apparating?"

"No," said Ron, who seemed to have given in. I think Hermione said something about you not being able to."

Harry pulled out a piece of clothing at random – it turned out to be a cloak. He fastened it, groped for his Nimbus, then opened the door. He felt Ron follow. It was dark in the corridor outside, as well. Harry and Ron lit their wands and made for the exit.

They made their way down the drive, past the statue, and pushed at the gates. A terrible sound emitted from them – a horrible, ghostly bell.

"The alarm!" said Ron, in panic. "They think we're trying to break in!"

"Get out, quickly!" said Harry. He flung open the gate, which carried on ringing. Lights had come on in the teacher's block. The last thing Harry wanted was several fully trained Aurors thinking he was a criminal. They ran out onto the road. The door of the building had been opened, and dark shapes were running out. Harry leapt onto his Nimbus; Ron onto his Cleansweep, and they were off.

Blasts of lights were being shot at them from the wizards. It was a good thing both Harry and Ron were Quidditch players. They dodged the spells as if they were Bludgers, and were soon off into the night.

"Makes you wonder how Millstew was meant to get through," said Ron.

They sped off through the cold, February night air, both wondering how exactly they were meant to get to Hogwarts without freezing to their brooms. Luckily, Harry solved this problem – with a simple charm.

Using their compasses for direction, Harry and Ron headed north. They didn't talk much – Harry had sensed that Ron was thinking about his sister.

"Er –" said Harry, in an attempt at suitable conversation and a distraction from the in all rather boring flight, "why is she still at school, anyway?"

"I think she wants to get her NEWTs. She's been taking potions to help her keep going."

They carried on flying in silence. Harry's broom was almost twice as fast as Ron's, and he was having trouble staying with his friend. At first he kept doubling back, but this only confused Ron.

"Stop doing that! I keep thinking we're going the wrong way!"

Hours passed. Harry's boredom was thrown out by dread. What if it all went wrong?

It was one o'clock in the morning when they finally saw the many lights, rising up to the sky, that Harry knew could only be those of Hogwarts. How they had found the school he didn't know. It must have been a miracle. They touched down lightly beside the Quidditch stadium.

"What do we do now?" asked Ron.

"I don't know, it was you're idea to come," replied Harry. "Get rid of our brooms, I suppose."

Amazingly, Ron had a key to the changing rooms from his previous spell as Quidditch captain. He had been meant to give it in at the end of last year. However, they unlocked the doors and left the brooms inside.

"You can hand it in later," said Harry. "There'll be no point trying to stay hidden now."

Despite this, they walked up the drive stealthily, using the techniques Andros had taught them. The doors opened easily. Harry wondered if this was accidental.

"You know, we could always have used Alohomora," pointed out Ron.  

As they stepped into the Entrance Hall, Harry stumbled backwards at the light. After so many hours in the dark, it was a big shock.

The Hall was obviously the only lighted part of the school, however. As Harry and Ron climbed the marble staircase, it steadily became dimmer until finally it was as dark as it was outside.

"Which floor's it on?" asked Harry, meaning the hospital wing.

"Don't know," replied Ron. "It's always moving, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Shall we try the third floor? I think it was their last time."

Ron nodded his agreement. "Let's hope we don't meet Peeves."

They didn't. They did meet somebody else however, and it gave them quite a shock. However, it turned out that the Fat Friar had been dead for so long he couldn't remember who was in which year at Hogwarts. He just said, "I haven't seen you two for a while," and drifted off.

"He's like Professor Binns," said Ron, but neither he nor Harry laughed.

The feeling of dread deepened as they moved closer towards the hospital wing. Ron's face was white, and Harry suddenly realised he was twisting his hair round his fingers in nervousness.

They climbed another staircase, and another, before coming to the door of the hospital wing. "Found it," breathed Ron. His voice was shaking.

They pushed open the door to reveal a lighted room, full of beds. A familiar, tired-looking witch looked over at them from the foot of one of the beds.

 "I thought I'd be seeing you here," said Madam Pomfrey. "You two are always breaking the rules."


	30. Accusations

_Chapter 30: Accusations_

"Where's Gi –" began Ron.  

"She's here," replied Madam Pomfrey, motioning to a bed with its curtains drawn. "And the baby too. I haven't delivered a child for twenty years. Honestly, this is a school infirmary, not a maternity ward." She went over to the bed, and put her head through the curtains. After a few seconds she emerged again. "She says you can come and speak to her."

She tapped the bed with her wand and the curtains flew open. Ron ran over, Harry followed at a slower pace. Ginny was sitting in the bed, her hair uncombed and her face tired.

"Hi," she said, and smiled weakly at them.

Ron sat down on the bed. "Are you – are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Ron smiled for the first time that evening. "And – and the baby? How is he? Or she?"

"He," answered Ginny. "He's fine. He fell asleep a few minutes ago. She brought her hand slowly from beneath the sheets and pointed to a cot on the other side of the bed. Madam Pomfrey came over and picked up the sleeping baby boy from within it. She handed him carefully to Ginny, who cradled him in her arms. Ron and Harry bent closer for a better look.

The baby had very little hair, but what was there was black. His eyes were a vivid green, his face was thin. Ron looked from the baby to Harry and back again. His smile dropped. Harry felt the feeling of dread return.

"What's the matter?" asked Ginny.

"Nothing," said Ron, as if he was struggling to keep his temper.

"Oh, good. Could one of you write to Mum and Dad – and Fred and George, and Bill, and Charlie, and Percy, and everyone. I want them to know."

"Yes," said Ron, still sounding angry.

"Er …" began Harry, making a stab at conversation. "What are you going to call him?"

"Well," began Ginny. "Well, I – I don't really know. How about –"

"How about _Harry_?" Ron interjected, his voice rising. He took one last look at the three of them, and stormed from the room. Madam Pomfrey, who had been filling the bedside jugs with extra water, looked on disapprovingly. 

"What's wrong with him?" said Ginny, watching her brother leave. She stroked the baby's hair.

"I don't know," Harry lied, keeping his eyes off the child. "Maybe he's talking about Dobby's kid. It's probably all too much happiness for him."

"Yeah," agreed Ginny. Dropping her voice, she continued, "I'm glad he let you come. It was you I wanted really – you're much better at talking to me than any of the others, and I'm not sure they'd have come straight away anyway. I hoped that if I asked Ron, you'd come as well."

"Oh," said Harry, flattered. "So – er – what d'you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," said Ginny. "Anything, really."

They talked until Ginny decided she wanted some sleep, which was only for about fifteen minutes. Madam Pomfrey came over to them, took the baby, and drew the curtains. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you," she said to Harry. "He's in his office."

Harry left the hospital wing. Ron was not outside. Harry walked vaguely in the direction of Dumbledore's office.  It occurred to him that he had no idea of the password. This didn't seem to matter, however, as the gargoyle leapt obediently sideways as soon as it came into view. Harry stepped onto the moving staircase, and let it carry him up.        

He didn't knock, and entered straight into the room. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk and, despite it being the middle of the night, he didn't look tired in the slightest. Ron was still nowhere to be seen.

Dumbledore nodded at Harry, who made to take a seat. 

"Don't bother," said the old man. "You'll only be here a short time."

"Okay," replied Harry.

"I have managed to get yourself and Ron beds – it so happens that we have just purchased a few new ones, for next year, as some of the present ones are no longer as new as they were once, and we have made them up for you in – in one of our slightly larger broom cupboards. You may sleep there. It is the first door on the left-hand corridor of the sixth floor. I daresay you will be able to find it. Professor Gabriel has been notified of your sudden departure. The train will take you back tomorrow morning. Now, if you excuse me, I wish to get back to a rather interesting book on toadstools I'm reading."

Harry nodded, and left. He was at the room in what seemed like no time, and suddenly realised that he was tired. He pushed open the door to find Ron climbing into bed fully dressed.

"I've sent the letters," he said brusquely.

Harry nodded, and took off his cape. He had forgotten he was still in his pyjamas. He too climbed into his own bed. The sheets were still warm from the iron.

Ron looked as if he was about to explode. 

"I haven't done anything with Ginny," Harry said. "Honestly."

"Then how come he's the splitting image of you?" interjected Ron. "Just coincidence, is it? Give him glasses and – and a scar …"

"I didn't," said Harry, emphasising every syllable. 

"Yeah, right," said Ron. "You used a Memory Charm, didn't you? Or Imperius!"

"Imperius!" exclaimed Harry, scandalised. "I would never use that."

"Doesn't mean you couldn't. You're good enough."

"It – wasn't – me."

"Then someone obviously used Imperius on the both of you, didn't they? And this time you couldn't fight it off, obviously!"

"I didn't," said Harry. "There are other possibilities!"

"Name one," said Ron. "See, there aren't any!"

And with that, he rolled over and fell asleep. Harry, however, couldn't. He was innocent, but how could he prove it?   


	31. The Vampires' Letter

_Chapter 31: The Vampires' Letter_

Harry awoke to the clattering of students moving around, then fell back to sleep again. When he awoke next, it was quiet. Everyone was obviously in lessons. Ron was nowhere to be seen, but some food lay on the table – breakfast. Harry got dressed, then helped himself to it. Ron came in just as he finished.

"She's named him," he said gruffly, putting on his cloak.

"What – oh!" replied Harry. Ron glared at him. "Er – what's he called?"

"Ryan Cyrus Weasley," replied Ron, not looking at Harry. Then he stood up. "We're going."

Harry nodded, put on his own cloak, and started for the door.

"Don't forget your broomstick," said Ron, still angrily.

"What?" said Harry, then noticed his Nimbus lying by the bed. Someone had obviously brought it up, presumably the same person who brought the breakfast. Harry would've been prepared to bet any money it was Dobby, had he been feeling anything like betting.

The two young men walked in silence down to the station, where a steam engine was waiting. It was covered in black, peeling paint – nothing like the finery of the Hogwarts Express. Ron and Harry climbed into the driver's cab as they were asked, and the train started to travel south. 

Professor Gabriel said that he could see their reasons for leaving, but deducted twenty-five points each from their personal tallies. Harry dropped to eighth and Ron to tenth place. They had barely said a word to each other since the night before.

Over the coming weeks, they were each waging a silent war. Both of them wanted to have as much fun as possible out of lessons, but neither wanted to be together or even be in the same room. If Harry was the first to the common room Ron would spend his time in the dormitory writing long letters, and if Ron was first Harry would go onto the pitches and mess around on his broomstick in various sports. Rudolf tried to bring them back together and while Harry was quite keen to be on speaking terms again, Ron seemed reluctant to even try to be nice to Harry.  He had started avoiding Rudolf as well.

Harry tried getting through his lessons as well as he could, but the absence of support from his best friend meant that his marks were not as good as they should have been. February turned to March, and still Harry and Ron argued silently. Harry tried telling Ron that he could use Veritaserum, but Ron wouldn't listen. His results were being hampered even more than Harry's.

On the twentieth of March Hedwig brought Harry a letter. Just from looking at it, he could tell it was one of the strangest he would ever receive. It was a scroll, and tied with a thick cord of what looked like the hairs of an animal bound together. It was made of parchment as usual, but the parchment was not well constructed – there were bits of meat still stuck to it in several places. Harry wondered who had skinned the animal. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he, as a trainee Auror, should open such a suspicious document, but his curiosity got the better of him and he ripped off the cord and unrolled it.

It was covered in words of what looked like a reddish ink, but smelt of dried blood. Wondering for a moment if it was a death threat, Harry started to read.

He was surprised to find that it was not in English, or even in a Latin script, but in what looked like Cyrillic. He bent closer to it, brushing his hair back behind his ears as he did so, and attempted to decipher the strange letters. After the first few words he had the answer: it was Vampirish. He read through it, translating words where he could, and guessing where he could not. He managed to build up a fairly good idea of what was being said, which he wrote down on a piece of regular parchment for reference:

_Telkarr and his Kinsmen salute Harry Potter:_

_You have done a great many kind things in the past, and we would now like to ask for your assistance once more. As you no doubt know, there has always been great rivalry between the vampires and the goblins. The goblins of Gringotts Bank, who came recently to collect our taxes to the Ministry, are scheming to find some way to force us to leave our home, and have discovered the charm barriers that you have erected. They refuse to believe that a human put them up, and are planning to tell the Ministry that we have used wands illegally. We beg you to come to our aid as soon as possible. We will pay you well._

Harry had no intention this time of sneaking out without permission. It was the weekend, and students were allowed to leave the college if they so wished, but Harry decided it would be best to tell Professor Gabriel first.

He found the Deputy Headmaster in his office as he expected. The senior Auror was quite willing to let Harry go, as long as he didn't get into too much trouble. "It'll be some good experience for you," he said. Harry thanked him, left the building, and Apparated.


	32. Battle With Goblins

_Chapter 32: Battle with the Goblins_

As Harry saw the moment he arrived at the vampires' residence, the goblins' hate of the vampires was making them go a lot further than simple eviction. The cottage was surrounded by a circle of cannons, each manned by one or two armoured goblins. A larger goblin sat great chair on wheels, talking with his advisors.

Harry built up all his strength, and walked towards the goblin on the wheeled throne, wand raised. "What are you doing?" he asked, loudly and clearly. "You have no permission for this."

All the goblins turned to face him. "We don't, don't we?" sneered their leader. "Then what's this?" He unravelled a scroll of parchment. Harry walked forward to take a look:

_BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_The vampires in residence at Dartmoor are a menace to society and have severely broken several of the just laws of our land. The crimes they have committed include:_

· _Possession of a wand, or wands_

· _Refusal to pay taxes_

· _Violent conduct towards Ministry employees_

_It is hereby given permission to the goblins of Gringotts Bank to take these vampires by force, as they are dangerous to wizardkind, and to bring them to the Ministry so justice can be carried out._

"Signed by the Minister himself," grinned the goblin, whilst the other laughed.

Mr. Weasley? thought Harry. No, he wouldn't …

He glanced at the signature: _B. Weasley_. To the uninitiated, it certainly didn't look like a forgery. But this wasn't Bill Weasley's handwriting. Harry pointed his wand at the goblin's throat. "Who really signed this?"

"The Minister for Magic. Honestly, you humans. Such bad memories," the goblin taunted, but he sounded scared. His soldiers had stopped laughing.

"Who signed this?" repeated Harry, talking as if to a young child.

"I've told you," said the goblin, trying to sound cool but failing spectacularly. He attempted a discreet nod at one of his advisers.

"Liar!" Harry replied. "He would never do this to innocent people."

"But they're not people …" returned the goblin. He no longer sounded scared.

Harry wheeled around at the last second, just in time to leap sideways from three fireballs that had shot from the cannons. They slammed into the throne and exploded. The goblin leader leapt off hastily. "KILL HIM!"

Harry sent spells randomly at the cannons. Three hit, and the cannons exploded, flattening the goblins behind them; two hit goblins in their own right; and the other four missed completely. He had just enough time to duck another speeding fireball. They were no worse than Bludgers.

Goblins were advancing on him now, curved swords drawn. Harry wished he had paid more attention in History of Magic classes. How did wizards win the goblin wars?

He Stunned twelve more goblins with quick spells, and set his sights on the cannons. Unfortunately he hit one with an Engorgement Charm – it blew up to three times its original size, then exploded, knocking him and several goblins backwards.

He scrambled to his feet just before another goblin managed to reach him, obviously intent on severing off his head. Harry knocked him backwards with his arm, then Stunned him as well. Focusing his energy, he spoke the incantation for the Total Havoc Curse: "_Omnisnecare_!"

He managed to keep his feet this time as goblins and cannons were flung backwards, some slamming into the cottage. The cracks that appeared in the stones were easily visible.

There were just two goblins left standing. Conjuring a rope, Harry bound them easily. Silence fell.

Harry approached the goblin chief, and revived him. A shard from one of the cannons was buried in his chest. The force had even been enough to break through the goblin armour. The goblin groaned.

"Do you know who I am?" asked Harry sternly.

The goblin took a close look at him. "H – Harry Potter," he replied.

"Correct. I believe you helped us in the war against Lord Voldemort. Why are you doing this?"

"The money," replied the goblin, shaking. "We did it for the money."

"The vampires' money?"

"Yes. We are metalworkers, and treasure gold more than anyone else."

Harry hesitated. Trying to sound intimidating was not easy. "Who _really _signed that document?" he continued.

The goblin quaked, as if he was scared to say what Harry had asked him to. "The Dark Lord."

Harry was surprised. He had not been expecting something this major. He tried to think of how to continue. "What is his name?"

"He calls himself Amarenox. I have not seen him. Only his shadow." The goblin breathed out heavily.

Harry waited for a few seconds before asking, "Why did he sign the document for you?"

"I don't fully understand," said the goblin. "I think there's something he wants from us – in return."

"Right," replied Harry. "I see. Do not take orders from him – ever. I will not turn you in this time."

The goblin nodded. "Of course."

"Does the leader of the bank know?"

"No. It is only myself and my troop who know."

"Good," said Harry. His voice was harsh. "Behave yourselves, in future. If you don't –" He drew a finger across his throat. "Go now."

The vampires had been crouching in their cottage the whole time, and were overjoyed when Harry told them what he had done They paid him all the money the goblins had been trying to take.

"Don't now why I bothered," smiled Harry.

He spent the rest of the day with the vampires, drinking Firewhisky and telling jokes, but the whole time Amarenox was still on his mind. What was it the self-created Dark Lord wanted to do? He really wanted an answer, but it was hard to think of one amongst all the festivities.

It was dark by the time he returned to Andros. He had been hoping for some time to think, but something else put him off: Ron. Harry had spent most of the day enjoying himself, and not thought about his best friend once.


	33. Deciphering Revelations

As I get closer to the end of this story, I'm also beginning to plan the next in detail. A map of the wizarding country Harry visits in _Harry Potter and the Kingdom of the Mountain _can be found on my website on the 'My Notes And Pictures' page. See my profile for the link.

I've had problems uploading this; hopefully everything's OK.

_Chapter 33: Deciphering Revelations_

"He's dead," said Ron curtly.

Harry turned off the Tri-X and turned to look at his friend. "What? Who is?"

"Millstew," replied Ron, not looking at Harry. "He died in St. Mungo's this morning. It was on the wireless."

"Oh," said Harry. "Right."

Ron went to sit down at a table and started to read his notes. It was the week before the end of term exams, and everyone was working hard to try to do as well as possible. Harry, however, was being distracted by other, more exciting, occupations to try to take his mind off Ron. He forced himself out of the chair and went unwillingly to search for some books.

He was still trying to revise for the tests the next morning, when an owl brought the newspaper. He glanced through it, hoping to find something on Millstew, and did: a small article sandwiched between an advert for Mrs. Skower's Super Stain Slayer and another for 'Second-hand cauldrons, never used before.' He started to read:

_'MAD' MILLSTEW DIES IN CARE_

_Thomas Millstew, formerly a resident of Northumbria, died in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and injuries at around six o'clock yesterday. Mr. Millstew became a wanted man of the Ministry of Magic after revealing his plans to kill 'Boy-Who-Lived' Harry Potter last August. In curious circumstances, Millstew was found by goblins in the tunnels of Gringotts Bank two months ago, exceedingly thin, losing hair and muttering unintelligibly. His condition was improving and he was due to stand trial by the Wizengamot next week. Three days ago, however, he "started behaving like a lunatic", as quoted by the Healer in charge of his ward. "There was nothing we could do," said the same Healer. "He fell asleep after a while and I left the ward for a short time: when I returned, he was dead."_

The exams came and went. Harry didn't do badly: he averaged a mark of 80%, with a bottom score of five out of ten and a top score of full marks, which he received twice. He was top of the year. The second-years returned in time for the end-of-term feast, and the personal point scores were read out. Harry had moved back up to third.

"Was the foreign course good?" he asked George Ollerton.

"Yeah," said George through a mouthful of chicken. "It's good to be eating proper food again though," he added. "We had rice every day in China, and we had to use chopsticks."

Harry nodded. He wondered vaguely where he'd be going. "Did you have to do the exams?" he asked.

George nodded; he obviously couldn't speak because his mouth was so full.

The journey home in the car was subdued. Ron wasn't speaking to anyone; Hannah, normally talkative, just wanted to relax as she had had an especially hard term; Harry was too busy thinking about Amarenox and the death of Millstew. As a result neither Rudolf nor Lizzy had much to do. They tried talking to each other, but this wasn't easy as Rudolf was in the back seat and Lizzy in the front.

Hermione tried to persuade Harry and Ron to make up, but Ron wasn't changing his point of view. On the third day of the holidays, Harry received an owl asking him to go to the Burrow. He arrived their to find Ginny acting very much like her mother. She had obviously come home for Easter, and was forcing Ron backwards with only her voice. Then she left the room, and Ron fell onto a chair.

Harry was about to ask, "What was that about?" when Ron spoke.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry smiled. "Made you see sense, has she?"

"Yeah," replied Ron, also smiling, but only slightly. "She told me it didn't matter who the father was, just as long as she was happy. And she says she is, mostly."

"It wasn't me," said Harry. "You should've known I wouldn't …" He trailed off.

"I know," Ron admitted. "I was being a bit stupid, that's all."

"Yeah."

"I wonder who the father _is_?" said Ron, looking thoughtful.

"We'll probably never find out, unless he comes to get the baby – Ryan," replied Harry. "And why should he?"

Ron nodded. "As long as it isn't Draco Malfoy."

"He's OK – sort of," Harry acknowledged.

"He might try to be nice, but he's still just a ferret really," replied Ron. "However much he tries to make up for his father and talk nicely to people."

"'Spose."

A week later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were discussing the various dark events that had been going on. Rudolf had gone on holiday to Germany for the break and wasn't there. It was also much harder to say more than a few sentences at a time to each other in daylight as people kept visiting SPEWIN.

"So, what do we know?" asked Hermione as she added more leaflets to the assorted displays.

"Well," said Ron. "There's this Amarenox guy – and he wants to do something. That's what he said, isn't it – 'It will allow the world to survive once we have done the work we need to do?'"

"Yeah," said Harry. "And he wanted Millstew to kill me – said he didn't want to make the mistakes of other Dark Lords and let me get in the way."

"And he wants the Orb of Light?" said Hermione.

"Yeah. To destroy it, he said."

"So…" replied Hermione thoughtfully. "That'll be what Millstew was looking for …"

"Yeah," said Ron. "But he couldn't find it. But Harry here, with his arm …"

"Managed to get into the vault," finished Harry.

"Yes," replied Hermione. She absently-mindedly indicated leaflet display to a customer. "So – what did you say it did again?"

"Shine when no other light can," quoted Harry. "But why anyone would want to destroy it –?"

"What if –" began Hermione. "What if he wanted – to plunge the world into darkness."

"Why would anyone want to do that?" asked Ron.

"I don't know, Ron – oh thank you! Put it in the donations box."

They waited until the donator had left the shop, then carried on.

"Maybe he – maybe he doesn't like the light," suggested Harry. "Maybe he wants to get rid of the sun, or something."

"That's a great idea, Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. 

"Keep quiet!" whispered Ron as several customers looked at them oddly.

"Sorry," replied Hermione, dropping her voice again. "So he wants to plunge the world into eternal night-time and all that's stopping him is this Orb of Light. I've forgotten – did the parchment say how to destroy it, Harry?"

"With the blood of a dark beast. You know, a dragon or a manticore or something …" 

"I know," replied Hermione. "He must be stopped. The Orb is the world's last hope. He must not get it."  


	34. The Magicograph

Chapter 34: The Magicograph

Harry felt like he was back to Andros in no time. It was a great relief to be friends again with Ron, and it helped his marks get back to his previous standards, although, as the teachers said, he wasn't bad anyway.

A week after lessons had restarted, Harry and his classmates were sitting in their Stealth and Tracking classroom, waiting for Professor Confessus to come. He arrived a few minutes late, sat down, and drew a square of parchment from the pocket of his robes.

"What's that, sir?" Ron enquired.

Professor Confessus looked down at him. "I was just about to tell you," he smiled.

"Sorry," Ron apologised.

"It's not a problem," said the Headmaster, holding up the parchment. As the light caught it, Harry noticed that it was not opaque, as he had thought, but actually a clear sheet, almost like transparent plastic. It was covered in bright yellow dots and splodges, which looked like some kind of paint. In the centre was a small cross, around it were circles of different sizes, extending out like ripples in water after something has been dropped in it. "Does anyone know what this is?" asked Professor Confessus. 

Rudolf raised his hand. "Er – is it – a magicograph? I tink we did about dem at Durmstrang."

Nodding, Professor Confessus replied, "Yes. You are correct. Can you tell me what the magicograph does?"

Rudolf paused for a second, then answered. "It is used for detecting occurrences of spells and … and tings like dat."

"Correct. Yes, the magicograph is used to detect the amount of magical energy around a certain point – the parchment of the graph itself. If I take a map of the college," Professor Confessus did so, "and place the magicograph over it," he did this also, "We can see where magic is being used in the building and grounds. _Engorgio_."

The two sheets of parchment were blown up to five times their original sizes, so that the whole class could see clearly what was going on. On top was the magicograph, the yellow paint-like substance flowing and vibrating all over it. Underneath was the map of Andros: the L-shaped main building with each room drawn in; the smaller, rectangular teachers' block; the fenced paddock; behind them the sports pitches, pavilion, stable and Arena.

"Can everyone see?" asked Professor Confessus. There was a general murmur of agreement and Professor Confessus nodded. "Good. As you can see, the map is centred on our classroom – itself in fact. Now this particular graph can only cover a small range, as you can see from the number in the corner."

Harry looked closely. A number was printed like a map scale, showing a small ratio.

"However," continued the headmaster, "some magicographs cover much larger areas, even as much as a whole country. I believe that one in the Russian Ministry of Magic in Moscow stretches right to Alaska."

Lizzy raised her hand. "Sir – what are the circles for?"

"Well, the further you are from the centre – marked by the cross," explained Professor Confessus. "The further you are from the centre, the less precise the graph is. The circles extending from the middle help give you an idea of the accuracy. Let's look closer. Stronger magical forces are shown with a brighter yellow – looks like the third years are in the Arena, and that'll be the second years making potions with Professor Potts. You can also see strong magical power with the horses, your equipment in your dormitories, and people's wands – those smaller circles. But don't presume Madam Masters' wand – in the stable, look – is less powerful than our own; it is only dimmer because the graph is not picking it up as well."

Now it was Harry's turn to ask a question. "Sir," he enquired, "what are magicographs used for?"

"They are very useful for the Ministry for detecting who is using magic where. I believe you have been caught by them more than once."

"Right," replied Harry. "Er – how do they know which spell I used, then?"

"Learned wizards can study what shows up on the graph and decide which spell is being cast. They can also trace the caster – you may not be aware of this, but wandsmiths must register every wand they sell with the authorities."

"Sir," put forward Ron. "Harry used to live quite a way from the Ministry – how did they find out it was him – it wouldn't have shown up on a graph which covered a large area."

"Good question," replied Professor Confessus. "Well, it is possible to detach the scanning spell from the centre of the magicograph, so that a graph in one place picks up magic in another. The Ministry have detailed maps of most districts, each covering about a hundred square miles. They are monitored magically – as you can imagine, it would take a lot of people to watch each one. I wouldn't like to –"

"It can't _just_ be used for watching who's using magic," interrupted Hannah. "Why would _we _be studying it then?"

Professor Confessus looked slightly annoyed at being cut short, but answered all the same. "Why, I thought that would have been obvious! We can use it to track down Dark wizards, of course."

Hannah nodded embarrassedly.

Professor Confessus gave out a small magicograph to each student, and they spent the rest of the lesson studying them in more detail, taking notes, and even practising the spells to make their own. Rudolf was the only one who could do it, and he managed to grow white, downy all over his usually bald head in the process.

"Professor," asked Hannah as they were packing away. "There's a magical power source here – looks like there's some kind of tunnel near the stable, leading to a sort of cave near the gates."

Professor Confessus looked closer. "Oh, that. It's just a nest of Nifflers."

Harry wondered vaguely how some of the best Dark wizard catchers in the world could let an old man set up a settlement in their back garden and convince them he was a Niffler.


	35. The Chase

_Chapter 35: The Chase_

Three weeks passed. Nothing happened of note, and all thoughts of anything else were pushed out of Harry's mind by the imminent end-of-year examinations. It was the teachers' fault, really. They were the ones who were really going crazy about it, not the students. Most of them were either confident of scraping through or had decided that they were doomed to fail.

"I'm leaving at the end of the year," announced Hannah dejectedly one third-period Herbology lesson, as her genetically modified, supposedly more dangerous, Devil's Snare cutting started to purr quietly before gently nibbling her fingers. "I can't cope."

Harry looked down at his own cutting. It had managed to tie itself in a knot. At least, he decided, he was good at other things, and top of the year. He managed to unravel the plant, which promptly bit a hole in his dragon-hide gloves, before the lesson ended.

After the break it was Physical Training. They rarely played sports anymore, instead indulging in gruelling training activities. Today the challenge was a difficult magical assault course, which they had to attempt without wands. Harry was useless at even the simple wandless magic they were expected to do, such as conjuring ropes and suchlike, but just managed to scrape a pass, which was more than some others. He returned to the dormitory and lay panting on the bed for the next hour, fully aware that he had homework to do.

It was past midnight when he finished it. As he put the scrolls of parchment away his eye caught the magicograph Professor Confessus had given them a few weeks before, crumpled to one side of his bag. It was glowing slightly in the darkened dormitory, and he pulled it out. 

He was amazed at what he saw. The shapes of the buildings, the perimeter fence and the old man's cave were all visible in blurred form, but that wasn't what surprised him. Entering through the gates was a spot of light brighter than anything he had ever see on the magicograph before; so bright, in fact, it was almost white. Harry stood up quickly and walked backwards into the desk. There was a loud crash, and Rudolf's voice said, "Vot?"

"Sorry," said Harry, standing up. "Go back to sleep, it's okay, don't worry."

"Don't vake me up again," said Rudolf drowsily. 

Harry glanced at the clear parchment in his hand again. The dot was moving round the back of the school. "No, wait!" he said loudly. "Something's going on!"

Ron woke up as well this time. He switched on his magical bedside lamp, and the room was flooded with light. Rudolf and Ron were both sitting up, looking at Harry as if they thought he had gone mad.

"What d'you mean?" asked Ron.

"Look!" said Harry, throwing the magicograph under his friend's nose. "Look at that light!"

"What about it? It's probably just Professor Confessus out for a midnight stroll."

"With a wand that powerful? It's something weird, I tell you! We have to go and investigate!"

Rudolf looked at Ron. "You told me he was like this."

Ron nodded. "Yeah."

"Yeah," said Harry angrily. "And when was I last wrong?"

"Well –" began Ron.

"We – are – going," Harry said. "No – argument."

"Harry, it's the middle of the light…"  

"I said, no argument."

Grumbling, Rudolf and Ron climbed out of bed and pulled on cloaks. "Fine."

They left through the dormitory door and out through the main entrance. "It's going towards the stables," said Harry, checking the magicograph.

"Der stables?" said Rudolf, sounding surprised. "Vot if it's someting to do vid dat old man?"

"Don't be silly," said Ron. "It's probably just a stray dragon," he laughed. 

"It's too small," said Harry. "And anyway, dragons aren't perfectly circular."

"I was joking, I was joking," said Ron. "I doubt it's much anyway."

"It's as bright as the sun!" Harry said through gritted teeth. "It's a really powerful magical object."

They continued in silence towards the light. It certainly was going towards the stable. "I wonder," Ron speculated after a while, "if it is something – d'you think they'll let us of the exams? Not that's it's likely to be of importance, of course."

"Vell, if it's as much as der Philosopher's Stone," replied Rudolf. "You saved dat in your first year at school, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but that was after the exams anyway. We were let off in our second year, though."

"But those exams weren't of huge importance and we didn't do our big act six weeks before the end of term," argued Harry. 

"Look, it's not going to be anything big," said Ron. "You-Know-Who's gone, why should _everything_ centre around you?"

"It might not be as big as Voldemort – and you can give him his name know, I defeated him a year ago almost – but it's still important," said Harry. "Look – it's going down the old man's tunnel."

"So it _is _someting to do vid der old man," said Rudolf triumphantly.

"Not necessarily," said Ron.

"Take this seriously will you!" said Harry angrily. "Let's follow."

So they did. The horses were asleep and didn't bother them. As they climbed through the trapdoor, Harry performed his spell to light the tunnel. They walked along quickly, gaining on the light as they did so.

"This old man," asked Ron, "is he – dangerous?"

"I don't think so," replied Harry. "He never did anything to me – OW!"

He had been flung backwards by something that had hit him as hard as a Bludger in the stomach; Ron and Rudolf were also lying on the floor. Harry stood up, and was surprised to see the door to the old man's cave in front of him. It was open for a second, then slammed shut. They had been so intent on following the strange light that they hadn't realised how far they had come.

Ron and Rudolf also stood up. "Shall we –?" began Harry, but he was cut off by a terrible, thunderous voice. 

"Thought you could beat me, boys? You were wrong. The Orb of Light is destroyed."  


	36. The End of Brightness

_Chapter 36: The End of Brightness_

"He's lying," said Harry, helping Rudolf and Ron up. "It's still on the magicograph."

How could he not have realised? Of course the brilliant light was the Orb of Light! Was it not what Amarenox wanted to destroy? Hadn't the old man said, on Harry's first visit, that the world for him was like a foreign country, but he could cope at night? He wanted to obliterate all sources of bright light and turn the world into a place of darkness! If he destroyed the Sun, the Orb of Light would still exist, buried deep in Gringotts, so he would have to destroy that as well. And he wanted to get rid of Harry, so that he didn't interfere. "Well, you've failed there!" muttered Harry.

"Pardon?" said Ron.

"It's not important," said Harry. "We have to be quick!"

He launched himself at the tiny door, but something caused him to stop. There was a crack. Looking at the magicograph, Harry saw that all of the magical activity in the cave had stopped, except for a thin line around the edge. His heart sinking, Harry stepped inside, Ron and Rudolf behind him. 

Everything, including the table, had disappeared from the small, stonewalled chamber. As the last of the three entered the cave, there was another crack. The door had gone, leaving solid stone on every side.

Everything was totally black, then a small round light appeared in the centre of the floor. The cave was shaking madly.

"What's happening?" shouted Ron. "What's he doing to us?"

Water began to seep in through the hole. It was icy cold, and Harry felt like his feet had frozen. Then he understood. This time there was no terrible voice shouting "NOW YOU WILL DIE", but in every other respect he was back in the cave in the game with Melkius Karrelus, the day he got his artificial arm. This time, however, he knew what to do.

"Stay calm!" he yelled. "Don't do anything!" He Conjured a huge rock out of nowhere. The cave stopped shaking. "Quickly! Climb up before it disintegrates!"

The water was up to their knees now. Harry, Ron and Rudolf scrambled up the rock. Harry attempted to blast a way out in the roof as he had done in the game, and on the third attempt he managed it. 

"Get out! It's going to fall!"

Rudolf went first, then Ron. As Harry grabbed the side of the hole, he felt it come off in his hand. Rudolf and Ron both grabbed him, and pulled. The rock below him disappeared – Harry hadn't had enough time to Conjure a more lasting one. With one last heave, his friends pulled him out. The entire chamber caved in, and Harry felt his right leg being crushed by shards of the cave roof. He lay, panting, that leg bruised and bloody. They were in a small, dusty room with one window, on a rich carpet that covered most of the floor.

"How did you do dat?" asked Rudolf.

"Let's say Amarenox's idea wasn't very original. I had to do exactly that on a Tri-X game. Nice carpet. Where are we?"

"The store in the pavilion, I think," said Ron, looking around. "Yeah, look, here's the ball crate for Quidditch. God knows why we ended up here!"

Rudolf shrugged, but Harry had more urgent things to think about. "We have to get back to the college! Tell someone about what Amarenox has done!"

There was yet another crack, and they all looked up, surprised.  "I'm afraid that won't be necessary," said Amarenox's voice, louder that ever. The old man was standing against the far wall, holding the shining Orb in one hand and a bottle of dark red liquid in the other. Behind him was an iron framework: one end, sharp and pointed, directed out of the open window; the other, a tube, inside a great cauldron filled with a dark turquoise liquid. Ron fell back next to Harry and Rudolf.

Harry tried to move, but found he couldn't. His leg was obviously broken. He reached for his wand and found, to his horror, that he had dropped it as the cave collapsed around him.

The old man looked like he had, so long ago now, when he had warned Harry about Lord Amarenox and Thomas Millstew – tall, with white robes and beard, and eyes and voice like thunder and lightning. He flicked his homemade wand, and Harry found himself almost totally paralysed, unable to move.

"I'm sure you've worked it all out by now," he boomed. "It was my plan to destroy you, but after Millstew failed I had no other choice but to go ahead with my plans. You interfered, yes, but you have not caused any lasting damage.

"You warned me about yourself," said Harry, finding that he could move his lips at least. "You said that I was to be aware of you."

"Ah, yes," smiled Amarenox. "I have always had trouble with – with my other self. The self that strives to help, to be kind – it ruled me for the first part of my life. I went to Hogwarts you know, under a different name, a name now forgotten. I was in Gryffindor, like you I believe. After I left school, I trained to become an Auror. We studied the Unforgivable Curses. I became enthralled. I delved deeper into the Dark Arts. I became afraid of the light. Remember me telling you that the world would not take me, except at night? That is what I meant."

Harry nodded. "You going to destroy the Sun. And – and the Orb."

"Very good," said Amarenox. "And I wanted you out of the way first – for obvious reasons. I have spent much of my life in that cave beneath the college, but when I heard that the reigning Dark Lord had been finally defeated, I decided to take control. I had heard of you, I decided to get rid of you. I employed a servant, Millstew. My other self tried to stop me, but I destroyed it. I could take the form of a man so small and wrinkled he didn't seem a threat, and I used this when you came to visit. I wanted to kill you, but I knew it would be unwise. Millstew could do it for me."

Ron suddenly spoke up. "You were scared!"    

"You could put it that way. When my other self took over for a short time in the cave, I failed to conceal my true appearance for a short time – a mistake perhaps. It is not important. In a few hours, the world will be thrown into twilight. Everyone will either join me, or fade away in what they see as a living hell." Amarenox stroked the metal contraption beside him. "When the sun rises, I will activate this machine and destroy it. But before, I will destroy the Orb of Light."

Must waste time, thought Harry desperately. Out loud, he said, "Where d'you get that thing?"

"This?" said Amarenox, continuing to stroke the machine. "Some goblins made it for me. Very skilled metalworkers, goblins. Or do you mean the Orb? From Gringotts, the goblins again. The one I had originally paid – with someone else's money, of course – left me, but thankfully some were still faithful. They got me the Orb. It was the world's last hope," he said, in a tone of mock sadness, "how unfortunate to see it destroyed. But with this blood of Dark beasts –" he held up the bottle of red liquid – "I will put out the light inside it! Watch!"

Slowly, Amarenox unscrewed the lid of the jar and tipped it towards the Orb in his other hand.


	37. The Magic Carpet

_Chapter 37: The Magic Carpet_

"FORWARD!" yelled a voice. There was a jolt, and Harry felt himself being carried upwards and forwards. The floor seemed to be moving. He watched as Amarenox was knocked over backwards, together with his cauldron and the contraption to destroy the Sun. The potion spread all over the floor and the Orb of Light was thrown into the air, landing next to Rudolf. Everything tipped sideways, and they were out of the door, out into the night, going higher and higher and higher …

Ron seemed to have regained the ability of movement. He was sitting cross-legged at the front of the carpet, which only a few seconds before had been on the floor in the pavilion. "That was lucky," he said.

Harry tried and found that he too could move, apart from his broken leg. "How did you know this was a magic carpet?"

"Just guessed, really. Couldn't think of any other reason for one to be in the pavilion. Are there any Indian sports which use carpets?"

"Der might be, I suppose," said Rudolf, speaking for the first time. "How do you know how to fly it?"

"Harry and I went to the World Cup in Turkey last summer. This man showed us how."

Rudolf nodded.

"Er –" said Harry. "Where exactly are we going?"

"London, of course," replied Ron. "We need to take the Orb back to Gringotts, don't we? Still got it, Rudolf?"

Rudolf nodded, and held it up.

"Aren't we going to tell anyone?" asked Harry.

"Oh," said Ron, looking back. Andros was just disappearing over the horizon. "Oh, well, it's too late now. We'll ask Hermione to send an owl when we get there. Right a bit … good … forward."

After a couple of exhilarating hours of flying over fields, farms and towns, they finally arrive at the capital. It was still dark, but the massive web of lights made it only too clear where they were. They landed softly on a large area that was devoid of lights, and Ron hurried off to check for a sign to tell them where they were.

He returned a few minutes later. "We're in Hyde Park," he said. "It's not far, less than two miles. Let's go."

"Oh no we don't," said a voice. A wizard was standing before them, his face illuminated by wand-light. "Are you aware that this vehicle is illegal?"

"Er –" said Ron. "It's an emergency."

"That doesn't make it all right," said the wizard.

"My brother's the Minister for Magic," said Ron hopefully.

"Do you expect me to believe that?" answered the wizard. "I've been with the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol for thirty years."

"He is, you know," put forward Harry.

"And you are –?"

"Harry Potter."

"Really? Well, gentlemen, I think you ought to be coming with me. Up you get."

"Harry's got a broken leg," argued Rudolf.

"Let's see it," said the wizard, shining his wand on Harry. "Oh, yes. Nasty. What's that?" He pointed at the Orb.

"Der Orb of Light," replied Rudolf. "It vos stolen. Ve're taking it back."

"The Orb of Light!" said the wizard incredulously. "There was talk about that at work. It got stolen, so they say."

"Yeah," said Rudolf. "Ve ver taking it back."

"I believe you," said the interrogator, "and I'm sure Adam Confessus does as well." The elderly Auror nodded.

Ron, Rudolf and Harry thanked him and left the office. They had recounted the entire story to a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with Professor Confessus, who was somewhat annoyed at being called down to London so early in the morning, also present. Harry's leg had been mended and they were now on to return the Orb to Gringotts, it having been decided that they were trustworthy.

The goblins took the Orb without so much as a 'thank you', which, said Rudolf, wasn't surprising considering how they tended to act. They then Apparated back to Andros, where Professor Confessus called them to his office.

"I suppose I must say well done to all of you," he said. "Despite doing some very stupid things, it seems as if you have saved the worlds of wizards and Muggles alike. This Lord Amarenox seems to have been a very big threat."

"Have you caught him?" asked Ron.

"He seems to have disappeared. We have taken the equipment with which he planned to destroy the Sun. We will catch him, I am sure, especially with your help. I will award you each fifty personal points."

The three young men smiled at each other, then muttered their thanks.

"It's okay. You may leave, except Mr. Potter. Thank you."

Rudolf and Ron left, and Professor Confessus leaned closer to Harry.

"You lost your wand, is that correct?"

"Yes," said Harry, who had, in all the excitement, totally forgotten.

"It may still be possible for you to get it back. It will test your capabilities as an Auror. By the way, Albus Dumbledore sends his congratulations. You may go."

"Thank you, sir."

"Oh, and tell your friends – I still expect you to sit your exams."

Harry nodded, and left.


	38. Retrieval

_Chapter 38: Retrieval_

"You're sure you want to do this?" asked Professor Confessus, as he, Harry and Professor Gabriel stood above the hole in the middle of the pavilion. "We can always get you a new wand."

"No sir, I'm fine," replied Harry.

"You don't want a double-barrelled one?" suggested Professor Gabriel.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you can get wands that are effectively two joined together, with a single core. Very good for fighting."

"No, no, I'm fine," said Harry hurriedly.

He was wearing his sports robes and carrying nothing but a small phial of violet liquid. Until he got to his wand, he would have to make do with difficult wandless magic and potions.

"I feel very vulnerable," he remarked.

"Well then, hurry up and get your wand back. Professor Gabriel and I will be here if anything goes wrong, but you should be able to cope. Go!"

Harry took a swig of the potion. He had made it specially: it would enhance his physical, magical and mental powers, but only for thirty seconds and once. He had to use it sparingly.

He leapt into the hole, and found that he was sliding down a long, earthy tunnel. Even Professor Confessus had been unable to work out how Amarenox had affected the underground cave system, so it would be up to Harry to navigate himself. One thing was for sure: the collapsed cave was no longer here.

Harry felt the walls as he slid past, checking for any sign of his wand. His eyesight had been improved slightly by the potion, but in the darkness it was still difficult to see anything. Rocks were scraping his skin, but had little effect: the potion had made it tougher.

Harry was actually fearing for the safety of the bottle, which was bouncing up and down madly at his side, and hoping the tunnel wouldn't end before he had a chance to take another swig. He was lucky: the moment he stopped sliding, there was a _click _and everything seemed to become surreal. He uncorked the phial and drank, and 'normality' returned.

With his catlike vision, Harry picked out the shapes of the rocks in the darkness. He was in a low tunnel, not unlike that that had led to the cave in the first place. He walked on, downwards.

Icy cold water began to tickle his feet. As the tunnel became lower and lower, it was getting higher and higher. Harry shuddered to think that he could have been drowned in this by now. It had obviously subsided a little since Amarenox had tried to kill them, however.

He presumed the rock he had Conjured had disappeared, as tended to happen, but this hadn't been the case for the rocks in the cave roof. One was ahead of him now: a huge grey boulder blocking his path. He hesitated for a moment, scared he have to go back, then, taking a third mouthful of potion, gave the rock a push. It disintegrated like a piece of tightly packed earth or sand, but Harry's troubles didn't end there.

The boulder had obviously been keeping back a large amount of water. Harry felt an icy torrent engulf him, knocking him backwards. Choking for breath, he stood up. The water was now up to his waist. He took a deep breath, and dived.

He was swimming through the icy water, wandering how long he could keep his breath for. This reminded him of the second task of the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year at Hogwarts, in the lake – but that time he had had Gillyweed. Why hadn't he thought to bring it today. Could he perform a Bubble-Head Charm without a wand? No – it didn't work. His lungs were gasping for air; he was struggling to keep his mouth shut, to keep the freezing water out.

Glancing up, he saw something that wasn't cave roof. He swum towards the tiny flicker of light, and grabbed onto a ledge that was jutting out. He pulled himself up – he was OK. Then he saw, to his horror, that the phial had unattached itself and had fallen back into the depths.

He considered going back for it for a second, but decided otherwise. It was too dangerous; in any case, the bottle had probably smashed, releasing its contents into the water, or been carried far away by the current. He would have to get through as best he could.

He looked around. An underground cliff face, at least twenty feet high, rose above him. He could get up there. It was a simple matter of conjuring ropes, something he had done many a time.

He clapped his hands, and a long rope, knotted every few feet, rose up to the top of the cliff. He scrambled onto it, his wet robes dragging him back. He would need to dry them.

He got to the top quickly: they had done plenty of climbing in the gym with Madam Hooch. He was now standing outside a small door: the original doorway to the cave. It appeared to have returned to its original place, creating havoc on the way.

Harry stepped inside. Shards of rock littered the floor; the roof was at least twice as high as before. A small round hole could be seen in it, but it led nowhere. Harry frantically searched, picking up rocks an moving them aside, then he found it: a stick of wood lying in a corned, with one end badly chipped. He picked it up, and performed a drying charm on himself. It worked. He had fulfilled his mission, and now only needed to get back.

He tried to Disapparate, but found his couldn't. It was obviously a safety precaution imposed by the old man – Amarenox. Harry hadn't Apparated in simply because he hadn't known where he was going. It would have been too dangerous.

He resigned himself to going back the way he came. This time he was prepared. He performed a simple parachute spell, leapt down the cliff, and landed softly on the ledge. Then he performed the Bubble-Head Charm, dived into the icy water, and returned to the surface.  


	39. Conclusion to the Year

_Chapter 39: A Conclusion to the Year_

It was summer. The days were long, hot and, appropriately for Britain, wet. After the events of early May, nothing much had happened of note to Harry. It was now the day before the first of June, and everyone, even the students, was obsessed with getting good marks in the all-important end-of-year exams.

Harry's first exam was due to happen that afternoon: Spell Creation. They had spent the morning revising with Professor Gabriel, who had stolidly refused to give away anything about what they were doing. His sly smile had caused everyone to think it was going to be ultra-difficult: in fact, for Harry at least, it was reasonably easy.

First thing on Tuesday they had Care of Magical Creatures. Again, Harry did well, far better than it previous tests. He fell apart slightly in Transfiguration that afternoon, but luckily did well on the theory.

Charms on Wednesday morning was a disaster. Harry had had his wand treated and its poor condition improved, but it played up and would not perform the spells Harry wanted. At least, he told himself, he managed to do some of the simpler ones.

Then there was Herbology. Once again, Harry did badly, though not nearly as bad as some other people. Rudolf, for one, nearly lost his sanity after eating Alihotsy. If it hadn't been for Professor Potts, he'd have been in hysterics for the rest of the exams, and would probably have been forced to leave the college.  

Curses went excellently. The exam took the form of a duelling tournament, like the lesson back in February. Harry won, beating all challengers. Then there was Concealment and Disguise. The students had to sneak past a dummy undetected. Harry was caught, but succeeded on his second attempt.

The final exam, on Friday morning, was Stealth and Tracking. Harry did well, managing to track down a fictional killer in the second fastest time. There was no exam as such in Physical Training, but the students did have to undergo a fitness test.

There was just one week of term left. It went by peacefully, broken only by the twice daily receiving of exam results. Harry was top in four subjects, second in three and third in two; out of the five students in the year, he was joint top overall, together with Rudolf.

The first three periods on Friday were taken up by sports. Quidditch, Swivenhodge, Battemarie, Withersball, Quodpot, racing: they did everything. Pegasus Equiner excelled, taking first place in nearly every event, and concluded with an announcement that he was planning to take up Withersball professionally.

There were yet more announcements in the final assembly and feast of term that afternoon. When everyone had finished eating, Professor Confessus stood up.

"I have a few – no, a lot – of things to say," he boomed. "Firstly, well done to everyone for an excellent year here at Andros."

Everyone clapped. The Headmaster continued: praising the teachers and the students one by one.

"Unfortunately," he continued. "Certain people are leaving. Our entire third-year, for instance. Goodbye to James Taylor, Pegusus Equiner and Alex Ramsbottom."

There was more cheering. "What about Sam?" hissed Ron in Harry's ear.

Professor Confessus had not left Sam Mesalla out on purpose. He had not decided to drop out, or failed his exams, and had become an Auror. An official ceremony would take place at the Ministry of Magic, but for now the Headmaster shook his hand and awarded him "something useful" in a box.

"Of course, some other students are leaving us for other reasons. They have decided they wish to take a career path other than the difficult one of the Auror. So can we also say goodbye to Hannah Brittain and Tessa Robinson."

Everyone clapped politely as Hannah and Tessa were also given smaller leaving presents.

"Thankyou, everyone. Now, we have the awarding of the personal points trophy. The winner gets to take the cup home, as our older students will know. I'm going to read out the scores in reverse order, starting with fourth place. Pegasus Equiner, with 414."

Pegasus stood up, and everyone clapped. He didn't receive a prize, but had still done very well.

"In third, Lyra Macmillan with 429."

Lyra did receive a prize. She went up to Professor Confessus, who awarded her with a bronze medal.

Harry realised that he had no idea how he was doing in his own personal points. He had gained fifty for his fight with Amarenox: would it be enough to get him first place?

"In second, Harry Potter with 453."

Harry couldn't help but feel disappointed, but collected his silver medal and shook hands with the teachers all the same. Second-place wasn't bad, especially for a first-year.

"And the winner – Sam Mesalla."

Sam stood up and came forward for the second time. The Headmaster gave him a gold medal and a large silver cup. He held it above his head, and everyone applauded.

So the year finished. The first-years climbed once again into Professor Confessus' car and they drove south to London. Hedwig sat on Harry's shoulder and nibbled his ear; the students talked: about their results, about what they were going to do over the holidays, about Quidditch …

It was all over to quickly. They seemed to have been driving for barely any time when they were climbing, out the car.

"Bye."

"See you."

"I'll try and write to you."

"_Auf Wiedersehen_."

"Going home, Harry?"

THE END OF THE FIRST INSTALLMENT

A/N: Finally. It's taken seven months, over forty thousand words and a lot of cups of orange juice, and I've done it. Completed. Finished.

And now I've got to start the sequel. _Harry Potter and the Kingdom of the Mountain_, that's what I'm going to call it, and hopefully I won't decide to change it halfway through this time. Look out for it. For all I know, the first chapter could be up in the next couple of hours. I was originally going to take a break, but I've taken such huge amounts of time off in _Last Hope_ and am looking forward to getting started so much, I may as well do it now. Again, look out for it. If you've read this far another forty thousand won't hurt.

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed (nicely), at present or in the past. I hope you'll all continue to help me improve my work. Here's the list, and I'm sorry if I've missed anybody out: Ailene, Anonomyus, Astronut, B125, Cool Like Ice (Aurelle), dnd4ever, dramatic-dreamer, Dumbledore, Grim Seeker, kellyidol2000, Kitty McGonagall, kraeg101, LadyTigerJade, Makotochi, Ms. Padfoot, Zelda.

Oh, and the Ginny's baby thing. It's OK, I haven't forgotten it. It's another story really, but I needed to put it in here so that it all fits together when I come to write that story in three years time. Look out for that as well. :-)

Arrows' Biggest Fan.   


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